


Ylvis Saves the World

by LillieWescott



Series: Ylvis Saves the World [1]
Category: Ylvis
Genre: Adventure, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Comedy, Danger, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2350295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillieWescott/pseuds/LillieWescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a chance encounter with a desperate stranger, the brothers find themselves stranded and injured in the middle of Canada's December wilderness and stumble upon an international conspiracy.  Using their particular skill set (acting, singing, flying planes, riding around in the back of trucks, firing weapons, keeping a straight face), they decide to save the world.  As one does.</p><p>One paragraph, with warning before it, describes a gory injury (not of our heroes!). Otherwise this story is family friendly/PG for language.</p><p>This story precedes the far more preposterous scifi disaster monster story entitled "Ylvis Saves the World 2".<br/>Free audio version available for download (because why not?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Norway

**Author's Note:**

> Here's an action hero story where the brothers save the world in a way that wouldn't be embarrassing to them, their family or their country. With lots of danger, comedy, adventure, brotherly love and a happy ending. There is one description of gore in the second chapter that had to be graphic in order for the story to make sense, but it's over in one paragraph, I promise. There is also profanity in several languages. You should assume the brothers are speaking Norwegian to each other unless otherwise specified. This story is based on the public persona of Ylvis and is, of course, a completely fictional account. Tusen takk for reading!
> 
> You can find a free audio .mp3 version of this story at my google site http://tinyurl.com/nzzdktd  
> (or search "google sites LillieWescott")

**Prologue:**

"Go, and I'll handle this." Vegard adjusted his rifle, thinking if he sprayed the stairwell entrance with bullets he'd probably hit at least a few of the men.  He swallowed hard and flicked off the safety.  "Just go."

"You think I'm such a coward that I'd leave you here?"

Vegard hissed at his brother, "Bård, get in there, climb up, get out, close the hatch and this time stay out."

"Why do you want me to leave?"

"I don't want you to die?" Vegard popped his head up again to look and ducked back as bullets bounced off the barricade.  He turned to look at his brother.  Despite his bravado, he could tell Bård was scared, maybe worse than he'd been in the plane.  His eyes were so dilated they were almost black. Vegard softened his voice and said quickly, "You can make the climb fast enough; I wouldn't make it before they ran over here and shot up the shaft.  My arm's hurt and I don't have the strength to make it."

Bård readied his rifle and snarled, "That's bullshit."  He bounced up and angrily emptied a magazine into the smoke.  When he ducked back down he could hear the soldiers yelling and cursing.

Hallas's voice rang out, "You shot me, you little shit!"

Bård shouted back, _"Fuck you, motherfucker!"_

Vegard grabbed Bård's arm and shook him. "As soon as you're away I'll fall back to the silo and try to wreck it; they won't be able to get through the blast door. I can handle this.  Go, get help, come back and…"

Bård growled, "I'm not leaving."

Vegard frowned at him.  "Do what I tell you."

Bård glared back.  "I'm staying.  But if we die here I'm going to beat the shit out of you."

 _"Jesus Christ…"_ Vegard handed Bård replacement ammo for his rifle.   "Stay behind me. And try not to shoot me or yourself."

"Hell yeah.  Let's go save the world."

Vegard rolled his eyes.  "Don't be such a –"

Bård hissed, _"Yippee-kai-yay motherfucker!"_

Vegard couldn't suppress a smile.  "I'll cover you.  Don't die."  He bounced up to lay down suppressing fire as Bård dove toward the neighboring hallway. 

 

* * * 

 

**Chapter 1:  Little Norway**

 

" _Hei, Hei!_ Bård!"

Bård looked up from his smartphone to see his older brother Vegard striding toward him with that idiot grin on his face that meant he'd done something ridiculous.  Bård sighed; he was tired and irritable and he just wanted to be in a comfortable bed and asleep.  It was their third day in Toronto and Vegard had suddenly taken their guide somewhere and Bård had somehow ended up guarding their luggage, such as it was.   It was supposed to have been ten minutes but had turned out to be an hour of sitting in the food court at Eaton Mall.  Canadian mall food sucked.  "What is it now?  And where's The Crew?"

Vegard stood in front of him and spread his arms. "Canada Goose!" 

Bård looked his brother up and down. He was wearing a black and red checked flannel shirt, skinny black jeans and hiking boots.  On top of that he had a red and fur-trimmed parka on and a matching knitted hat pulled over the perpetually uncontrolled curls of his dark hair. 

Bård asked, "Why are you wearing a hat in here?" He stood slightly, snatched the hat off of Vegard's head and inspected its label. 

"The parka.  It's from Canada.  And a goose! You can wear it at the North Pole!"  He pointed to a patch on the sleeve that declared "Arctic Program".

Bård rolled his eyes.  "That coat is huge on you.  And red?"

Vegard frowned, taking back the hat gently and stowing it in a pocket.  "It's supposed to be big.  And red is easy to see in the snow.  You're in a bad mood."

"I'm tired."

"I got you a present."

"Is it from Canada Goose?" 

Vegard lit up.  "Yes!"

"You already gave me one of those."

"That was fashion.  This is extreme!  It's rated down to below -30 degrees!"

"It's red."

"I know.  You got a black one."

"Aren't those ridiculously expensive?"

"Yes!"  Vegard grinned.

"Are you charging it to the company?"

" _Nei, nei, nei_. The shop owner was an older lady and messaged me with the offer of a good deal if I came by but she flat out gave them to me.   In return I promised to wear them on camera at some point and mention her shop."  Vegard showed Bård a photo on his camera that he'd taken with a matronly older woman; they were both smiling insanely.  

"So this is a sponsor?"

"No, actually I think she just wanted to meet me.  I felt a bit guilty about it and just offered to plug her store." 

Bård whistled.  "And she gave you 10000 kroner worth of coats?  I hope you at least gave her an autograph.  Or a kiss with tongue.  Or a kidney."

"Actually I offered her your kidney; I hope that's okay."

"Not a problem." 

Vegard smiled.  "Anyway, a lot of Norwegians have family here. It can't hurt to say something nice about Canada."

Bård shrugged, feeling mildly jealous and wishing he'd gotten a similar deal on some boots he'd bought their first day. "Okay, are we done here? I'm really tired."

"Bård!  Free awesome parkas!"

Bård smirked, "Okay, congratulations." 

Vegard gave the thumbs up. "Ready to go?"

"To the airport?" 

"Yes."

"Best news all day."

 

They shouldered the two black duffel bags Bård had been guarding in the mall and stepped out into the chill, clear December air of Toronto.  They'd come into town the day before yesterday to do an interview and then yesterday had met with Pinewood studio executives (by invitation) for an idea they'd had for a project for their show that had potential to be a stand-alone one-shot piece.   The meeting had gone well but Vegard had then insisted on going to Little Norway in the south end of the city to look at World War Two Norwegian Air Force memorabilia.  He'd given Bård a painfully long and boring lecture on Norwegian Air Force deployment in Canada and when they'd finally gotten back to the hotel Bård had fallen asleep the moment he hit his bed. 

He'd slept in this morning but he still felt jet-lagged.  And they had another meeting in Vancouver tomorrow morning and then Los Angeles and then an interminable ride home after that.  Vegard hailed a cab and they rode in silence for a long while before Bård finally relented.  "Fine. I give up.  What happened to The Crew?"  "The Crew" was their private joke about the young Canadian man the studio had provided to assist, guide and film them on their visit.  He'd been very enthusiastic but completely bewildered by their filming requests.  At one point Bård had just wrested the camera away and Vegard had interviewed The Crew, grilling him for information about national landmarks Vegard had invented on the fly.  

"Here.  Put this on."  Vegard reached into his shopping bag and handed him a black parka covered with tags and zippers.  It weighed less than Bård had thought it would. 

Bård ran his hand over the soft fur around the hood. It looked real. "No." He handed it back to Vegard.

"I'm going to fly us out of Toronto!"

"That can't possibly be legal."

Vegard grinned with excitement.  "I got a one year license for Canada. If I'm just flying you and me around like I will be doing today it's only a matter of paperwork. I did it before we came out here. I already went out to the airport this morning while you were asleep.  The sky is totally clear and beautiful."

"I thought you went for Canadian breakfast."

"I'm very tricky!"

Bård narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Is the reason we are out here talking to executives _in person_ because you have a pilot's license you can use in Canada?"

_"Maybe."_

Bård cuffed the back of Vegard's head. "Idiot."

Vegard took it in stride.  " _Nei, nei, nei_ … I'm joking. But it is supposed to be a beautiful flight. It's all arranged.  The studio chartered me a sweet Cessna Skyhawk, it will be really fun."

"Did you sleep with that lawyer to get all this stuff?"

Vegard made a face.  They'd met an entertainment attorney their first day who had been expensively dressed and at least ten years their senior.  She had flirted with Vegard so overtly that he'd made Bård swear never to leave him alone with her.  " _Oi!_ Of course not! And anyway she was horrible!"

"Her tits were definitely fake." 

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Bård shook his head.  "Canadian women clearly harbor some perverse fetish for dark men." 

Vegard rolled his eyes.   "The producers wanted us to be happy and I suggested it would make us happy.  Don't complain, there's back seat space.   You can sleep and miss the beautiful vistas.  We'll switch to a charter jet in a few hours and then go to Vancouver."

"You are not flying a jet."

"No.  Just the Cessna with the temporary license." 

"And The Crew isn't coming with us?"

"Evidently there is someone similar who will meet us in Vancouver.  The Crew gave me a GoPro camera and we can do some shots in the plane ourselves with it and then you can sleep.  Oh, here, I also got you this, put it on."  Vegard handed Bård a black woven cord bracelet with a plastic and metal clasp.

"It's ugly."

Vegard frowned.  "No, it's cool.  Paracord. You can use it as rope in an emergency."  He held up his own wrist to show a similar bracelet in grey.

Bård shook his head.  "Why would I need that?" 

"Just put it on."

"Why?"

"It's cool and it's a present."

"And why do we need new parkas?"

Their taxi driver interrupted in halting Norwegian, "What they …em… they are from Norway?  Em… where are they on Norway? Yes?"

Bård immediately replied, also in Norwegian, "Yes. They are on Norway. Are what… he also on Norway… many?"

The driver thought for a moment and said in English, "Sorry, that's about all the Norsk I got.  My mother is from Oslo but never used it at home with us kids. Are you here on business?"

Bård switched to English.  "No business, we are here to visit your mother." He glanced at Vegard who was smiling but shaking his head.  

The driver laughed.  "Okay, got it.  No questions. There's the airport ahead."  When they arrived he opened the door for them, refused a tip and said merrily, "Hope you liked Toronto.  Say hello to the homeland for me.  And have a safe flight!" 

They got out, grabbed their bags and headed into the airport.

As they passed through the front entrance, Bård said, "Fucking Canadians.  All so rude."

"Yep.  Never coming back here."

"No."

  

* * *

 

Bård grabbed a bottle of water from a vending machine and then headed back to the tarmac where Vegard was doing his never-ending flight check.   He honestly didn't mind flying with his brother.  Vegard was nothing if not a thorough and competent pilot, and it was a relief to fly completely privately with no need to put on the "Ylvis Entertainment and Variety Road Show" for strangers.  Alone, they could just be themselves. Which for Bård mostly meant he slept while Vegard took care of business.

He took a swig of the bottled water and pushed his shoulder-length blond hair behind an ear, hoping he looked cool and a little angry. At a book signing a fan had told him that with his Nordic features and blue eyes he looked like "young angry Thor", which Vegard had found hilarious.  But it was better than the "puppy eyes" comments Vegard got all the time with his baby face and dark eyes.  Bård was the more classically handsome one of the two; he was taller, blonder, and had had to fend off propositions from beautiful women from the moment they'd achieved the slightest bit of celebrity. Despite this, he'd always been jealous of Vegard's exotic and ethereal looks.  People always noticed Vegard first, then said they didn't believe they were brothers, and then usually made some insensitive joke about their mother's fidelity to their father.  Which was annoying as hell.  On the other hand, Vegard got more attention from squealing young schoolgirls and matrons who just wanted to adopt him.  So it was better to be an Angry Thor than a Puppy Eyes.  Wasn't it?

He zipped up his black leather motorcycle jacket and sauntered out onto the tarmac.  There were several planes taxiing nearby and the noise was deafening. As he approached the plane he noticed Vegard had taken off the parka but had both doors of the plane open. He was standing by the left side of the plane speaking to a man wearing khakis and a nondescript blue jacket with "SECURITY" written across the back. Bård sighed, hoping there wouldn't be a bureaucratic delay, but abruptly realized something more serious was wrong.  Vegard had glanced at him for only a moment but it was obvious he was tense.  As Bård approached Vegard looked back at him and shook his head, calling out in English, "Sorry, not ready yet. Come back in twenty minutes."

The man Vegard was talking to turned slightly to look at him, and when he did so Bård saw a handgun pressed against Vegard's ribs. Bård froze for only a moment, and then considered the possibility this was some elaborate prank. Surely you couldn't bring a handgun into an airport?  But Vegard's face had completely drained of color.  Bård had only ever seen him go white the few times they'd ever been in real trouble.  Bård set his jaw and moved forward, keeping his eyes on the gunman.  He stopped about two meters away.  "What's going on?"

The gunman said in an American accent, "So, is this your passenger?"

Vegard didn't answer and met eyes with Bård. This wasn't a prank.

The man sighed.  "Here's what we're going to do.  You, passenger, get in the back here with me. We're going to take an unscheduled trip and then you can be on your way."

Vegard said, "You don't need him. He can't pilot."

"He'll make a fuss if I take off without him and I don't want a fuss."

Vegard said to the stranger, "No. Tie him up or something and leave him here in a baggage cart, then I'll take you wherever you want."

Bård scowled at Vegard.  "You won't fucking tie me up." Bård was frightened, but there was no way he'd let some psychotic gunman leave with his brother.

The gunman said urgently, "Get in or I'll shoot both of you and fly the damn thing myself."

Bård studied the gunman.  He was a big man and looked to be in his mid thirties. White.  Dark hair.  Well-groomed.  A bit over Bård's height. Looked a bit Greek; hard to tell with Canadians or Americans, they were all such mixed breeds. The accent could be fake. Under the oversized jacket the stranger looked muscular enough to be scary.  Bård expected that he'd have to move past the guy to get in the plane and if he were in between him and Vegard then he could shove him down and –

The Man pointed the weapon up towards Vegard's heart and said, "Pilot.  I can shoot you, shove you in the plane and fly this bird myself. Tell your passenger to get in and not be stupid."

Vegard said calmly, in his I'm-Utterly-Freaking-Out-So-I'm-Acting-Like I-Do-This-All-The-Time voice, "Don't be stupid." He added in Norwegian, "We'll both die if we go with him.  Run."

Before Vegard finished his sentence the man reached out, pulled Bård toward him and wrenched his arm behind his back with frightening strength.  "Get in, passenger." He roughly shoved Bård into the back seat, climbed in after him and propelled him against the far side. Bård pushed himself off the side and started to turn when the man grunted and jammed the pistol against Bård's back.   Bård froze and lifted his hands.  The gunman said, "Pilot, continue your preflight.  I'm getting in front with you before we go.  Do not use the radio."

Bård felt his heart hammering in his chest and had a moment of doubt, thinking Vegard might dive out and under the plane. That's what he should have done. But he didn't. Of course he didn't. Vegard only nodded carefully and said to the gunman, "What do you weigh?"

"About eighty kilos."

Vegard nodded again and started checking his instruments.

Bård was infuriated that he was being used to coerce his brother into complying, more so when the gunman handed him a pair of zip ties. "Put one on each wrist."

Bård angrily grabbed the ties and said in Norwegian, "Jump out; I'll distract him."

The man hissed, "In English, or I'll gag you." Bård set his jaw and pushed Vegard's woven bracelet up his arm.  He wrapped the zip ties around each wrist, pulling them not-too-tight with his opposite hand.

Vegard started the little plane's engine. The gunman slipped in a third and fourth tie to hold Bård's hands behind his back and pulled the cuffs snug. He put a seatbelt on Bård, zip tied his ankles and then patted him down while Bård glared at him defiantly. He confiscated Bård's phone, passport and wallet, slid them into his jacket and only then climbed over him and into the front seat.  He pulled his side door closed and motioned for Vegard to do the same.  Bård watched Vegard pull on a headset and it occurred to him he'd have no way to communicate with him during the flight. Then he heard his phone ringing; the gunman turned the phone off and said, "You'll have to call them back later."

  

* * *

  

Vegard eased the nose of the plane down slightly after they'd reached altitude.  "My flight plan goes to Gore Bay."  The man had made him take off while holding his gun against his side, warning him not to warn the tower of a problem.  It had been incredibly terrifying, but somehow he'd managed to stay calm and enough to take off without incident.

The man nodded.  "Stay on your route for ten minutes.  Then drop altitude and turn north." He entered a new destination on the onboard GPS.

Vegard let out a breath; he'd been worried the man wanted to fly illegally into the US; the States tended to be violently protective of their border.  He chanced a glance back at Bård, and saw Bård frowning at him.  Bård hated to be bullied by anyone and right now he was sure to be more furious than afraid.  If it had been only himself Vegard would have fought the kidnapper tooth and nail or… flown his plane into a tree or… something.  Vegard sighed anxiously; Bård had a hotter temper than he did. Hopefully he'd have the sense to be quiet.

The man glanced back at Bård as well. "He's your brother, right? You two look exactly the same."

Vegard almost smiled out of habit. Bård had been widely proclaimed by the media to be the "pretty one".  Despite his private protestations to the contrary, he was always annoyed when people pointed out their resemblance.  Vegard didn't mind.  He was proud of his brother's good looks.

The gunman grunted, "What's your name, Pilot?"

"I don't know, what's your name?" Vegard didn't want to seem overly intimidated. A little defiance was required.

The man sighed and said, "If I tell you, I'll have to kill you.  Don't move." He jammed the muzzle of the gun under Vegard's chin and patted him down, pulling his wallet and phone out of his pockets.  Vegard found it difficult to concentrate on flying with the gunmetal pressed to his neck, but managed it.  He decided their captor was going to be named "The Man".  He wasn't going to give him a real name because it would be harder to kill him if it came to it. Vegard felt sick.  He didn't want to kill anyone.

The Man said, "Hold still," and put a handcuff on Vegard's right wrist.  On the other cuff was a small case, the size of a small phone.   "I'll take this off you when we get to our destination.  Now, listen to me.  I'm not the bad guy here. I'm with … I'm in… Intelligence. This is a matter of life and death for millions of people.  The whole world."

Vegard nodded noncommittally.

"So I'll ask again, what's your name, Pilot?" He opened Vegard's wallet with his free hand and flipped open his passport. "Huh, Norway. How do you say your name? Vee-gard?"

Vegard hesitated.  He'd had a short course in Survival, Evasion and Resistance during his military service that had taught him what to do if captured. But nothing about having your impulsive civilian kid brother sitting hostage in the back seat of a plane with you. He felt certain The Man would kill them once they landed; he had the safety off of the semiautomatic pistol he was holding, he had his finger directly _on_ the trigger and he was talking far too much.  Surely if he wanted to avoid arrest he wouldn't say anything.  Vegard thought carefully about what to say and finally replied, "We both have children. Families."

The man tossed Vegard's passport and wallet onto the floor.  "Shit. Calm down."

"Why do you need my name?  So you can say you are me after you kill us?"

"Just being friendly."

Vegard digested that and said finally, "Give my little brother a headset or he'll do something stupid and we'll crash."

"I turn around to do that and you'll be the one to do something stupid."

Vegard had considered several ways to overpower the man alone but they all ended with everyone dead in little pieces on the ground. He had no choice but to wait until they were at higher altitude or over open ground on which he might have a chance to land safely.  And he had to wait for The Man to drop his guard or his gun. "I won't. Not in the air like this."  He looked into The Man's eyes and put on his best harmless and childlike expression. His dark eyes and innocent face had gotten him out of a lot of trouble in the past.   He needed to be able to talk to Bård. 

"Maybe I should zip tie you as well?"

"If you want, but I promise I'll just fly the plane. I don't want you to hurt my little brother."

To his amazement, The Man nodded and then told Vegard to fly low enough to risk hitting the trees.  Then he motioned Bård to lean forward so he could put a headset on him, keeping his gun trained on Bård the entire time.  Vegard had no choice but to concentrate on flying.

The Man settled back into his seat and said, "Passenger. Your big brother here thinks you'll try something stupid.  If you two just relax you'll be free in a few hours with a story for your grandkids."

Bård said nothing. The Man said, "Passenger. Tell him you're okay so he isn't distracted."

After a long silence Bård said carefully in English, "You're okay so he isn't distracted."

The gunman said, "I could shoot you from here, smart ass." 

Vegard said hastily, "No, no!  Bård-Lukas, you listen to me."

There was another long pause.  "I'm listening."

"Be quiet and do not make trouble. Everything will be perfectly okay." The Man nodded and told Vegard to change course.

  

* * *

 

Two long hours later Bård was still watching his brother's face for some signal.  Vegard said nothing more to him after the one admonition and had remained almost stone still.  He'd never looked back at him again.  Lukas was the name of a burly kid that had bullied them when they were young; he had been a source of lifelong embarrassment for Vegard because Bård had been the one to finally fight back and he'd gotten pretty beaten up.  Vegard said he felt as the older of the two, it should have been him to throw the first punch and he'd been livid when he'd seen Bård's injuries.  At the time he'd said to Bård, "No one gets to hit you but me."  That had seemed like a reasonable rule at the time, especially since Vegard had usually pulled his punches when they'd wrestled as kids.

They'd gotten their revenge on Lukas later by simultaneously ambushing him and the name "Lukas" had thereafter been their shorthand for "let's do something sneaky together against a real jerk".   Vegard must really think their captor, who Bård mentally called Jack Ryan, would kill or hurt them if he was willing to take the offensive against him. And "perfectly okay" meant absolutely not okay from any perspective.  So something was probably going to happen and he should definitely not stay still or let Vegard take care of it by himself.  He watched his brother for some signal and tried to be ready to move.  

He had whiled away the time by trying to get a hand free of the zip ties without any luck.  Even getting a foot loose from his trainers was hopeless although he discovered he was able to pull up both his feet enough to get a good kick in if he had the chance.  He glanced out the window and saw a myriad of tiny lakes and streams flying past on the snow-covered ground.  They were flying low; it was hard to see too far.  Although they'd passed a few highways or houses, it was mostly desolation. If he were Vegard he'd wait until he saw something more promising before trying an escape.   They passed a few promising areas but Bård couldn't see Jack Ryan.  Maybe Vegard was waiting to catch Jack Ryan off guard.

 

Forty minutes or so later Bård saw a wide highway lining up with them and what looked like a small town.  He readied himself again, and finally saw Vegard imperceptibly bobbing his head; the way they'd always counted down to start some song or skit together.  On three he drew up his legs and kicked Jack Ryan's seat with all his strength, simultaneously shouting as loudly as possible into his headset.  Jack shouted with surprise and the plane tilted suddenly, throwing Bård on his side.  Almost immediately the gun fired several bursts in rapid and deafening succession.

Bård cried out Vegard's name and fought to right himself.

Bård was violently thrown to the left as the plane wobbled back to level and Bård held his breath, his heart pounding, not knowing who, if anyone, had control of the plane.  There was a thick spray of bright red blood on the roof of the cabin and blood and light shone through a line of bullet holes through the roof and right side window.  Worse, blood had splattered down between the two front seats.  After what felt like an eternity he heard Vegard say shakily, "Are you okay?" 

"Thank god, I thought-"

"Hang on, we're crashing."

"We're what?"  Bård looked out the window and saw the ground rushing towards them.


	2. Crash Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ylvis survives the crash, but Vegard is acting a little odd.

For Vegard, the last seconds before they hit the ground moved in dreamlike slow motion.  The Man had insisted he fly low, so he waited until the nose of the gun drifted away from him and there was a decent expanse of flat open ground before he acted.    When Bård kicked The Man's seat, Vegard simultaneously and violently slapped the muzzle of the gun upwards.  It fired several times and The Man's face disappeared in a flash of red. The Man's arm flopped onto the yoke in front of him and the plane abruptly rolled to starboard. Vegard grabbed his own yoke and tried to regain control, but there was no way to pull up in time. The ground was was flat and even but he could see the frozen expanse ended abruptly.  Beyond was a jumble of rocks and then forest. If he could just stop before…

…and then they'd hit the ground and he'd struggled to keep the plane upright.  They'd partially rolled and skidded on the right wing, but when they finally and abruptly stopped the plane bounced back onto its wheels.  At the same time, the bullet-riddled window on the passenger side cracked and shattered.  The sound made Vegard think for a moment they'd broken through the ice they'd landed on, but the plane seemed stable enough.  He let out a breath, pulled off his seatbelt, turned on one knee to look at Bård and asked, "Are you okay?  Did you get shot?" 

In response Bård cringed away from him and cried out in wide-eyed horror.  When Vegard reached out a hand to try for Bård's seatbelt clasp he saw his own arm was spattered with blood.  He looked down at himself and realized he was covered in gore.  "It's not my blood.  I'm not hurt."

Bård swallowed deeply, frowning at him. "You're white as chalk." 

Vegard shook his head.  "Hold still. I'm coming to help you." He turned back to look at The Man. The left side of his face was shredded and most of his nose was gone.  What remained of it was still attached to the right side of his face, flayed open and covering his right ear in folds.  His front teeth were shattered and his tongue was lolling at a grisly angle.  Dark blood was still oozing from his mouth.  He was very definitely dead.  He was holding Vegard's phone in his definitely dead left hand.    Vegard gingerly pulled it away, turned and opened the door.  He stepped carefully out onto the ice, pulling the new parka he'd been sitting on out with him.  The plane had slid about halfway into the stream or… well it was probably a small river. Hard to tell with all the snow. He pushed his seat forward and stepped into the back seat. 

Bård shook his head, struggling against his bonds. "Get me loose."

Vegard released the seat belt buckle and pulled Bård towards himself saying shakily, "Do you have a knife on you?"

"I thought we were going to a normal airport."

"Right.  Right.  There's a knife in the ditch case, hold on."  As he backed out again there was a sharp cracking sound and the plane suddenly tilted starboard, throwing Bård to the right side of the back seat. Vegard flailed, trying to keep his lower body outside the plane.  He pushed himself back farther, trying to balance the weight of the plane again and finally slid out.  "Hang on!" The moment he jumped off the plane it tilted back down and started sinking rapidly into the water.

Vegard wrenched open the baggage door and pulled out their bags, flinging them behind him to get to the ditch case. He pulled out the neon yellow case and the plane listed further with a loud crack, sinking another meter into the water.  Vegard heard Bård yelp his name and he realized he didn't have enough time to cut him free.  

He threw the ditch case toward their other bags, climbed back up and pushed open the side door, which was now almost on the top of the plane.   He flung his upper body back into the cabin; it was half-submerged in icy water.  Bård had managed to keep his head above water, just barely, and was looking up at him with undisguised fear, gulping in rapid breaths.    Vegard reached down, grabbed Bård's collar, and yanked him up enough for him to push to his feet.  That was enough for Vegard to lift Bård's upper body up and out of the plane; he jumped down and pulled him free as the plane shifted again.  As he dragged Bård to where their luggage lay, the Cessna gave one last shudder and sank into the water, with only the port wing sticking out.  That meant the water was at least six meters deep.   They weren't on a little river.  They were on a lake. 

The two brothers looked at the plane and then at each other with disbelief.  Then with a quiet, "Oh god," Vegard turned away, dropped to his knees and threw up.

  

* * *

 

As much as Bård was thrilled to be alive, and as much as he understood why Vegard was upset, it was _fucking_ cold, he was soaked through, bound hand and foot and lying on solid ice. The cold of the water had been so shocking that his chest felt as if it were on fire.   He was gasping uncontrollably. That was probably bad. He choked out, "Cut me… loose… I'm… freezing."

Vegard nodded and he violently tore off his blood-soaked flannel shirt while still retching and staggered to his feet. He washed his face and mouth off with a handful of snow, spitting and choking, and stumbled to the ditch bag. He pulled out a utility knife and knelt down to cut Bård's ankles and then hands free.  "Get up, we need to –"

Bård cut him off by throwing his arms around him and hugging him tightly, still breathing hard.  Vegard hugged him back, feeling awash with relief. Bård shuddered. "I… thought he… killed you."

 _"Nei."_   Vegard kissed the side of his little brother's head and then pushed him gently away.  Then he nodded to himself.  He now had a plan. All he would think about now was taking care of Bård.  He'd keep him safe and he wouldn't think at all about the The Man's mutilated face or the fact that he'd just committed murder… or at least manslaughter. He stood and said, "We need to get farther from the plane onto land before we can dry you off. Let's get to those rocks." He heaved Bård to his feet and propelled him forward, the two of them staggering and coughing from the cold. Vegard's breath came out in a white fog; he figured it must be at least -25 degrees Celsius, maybe colder. He set Bård, who was visibly shivering, down on a boulder.  Vegard had a moment of fear when he saw blood on Bård's clothing but realized his thermal undershirt's sleeves were still bloody.  He must have transferred the blood onto Bård when they'd hugged. Hopefully Bård wouldn't notice. He also hoped Bård hadn't seen the corpse in the plane; no reason for both of them to have nightmares. Vegard shook his head. He wasn't going to think about it. Stick to the plan.

Bård's teeth were chattering and he was struggling to pull off his soaked leather jacket.  Vegard cursed, " _Jesus_ , hang on." He retrieved his coat and their bags, helped Bård to strip off the wet clothing as fast as possible and got him into dry gear.  It only took a minute or two, but by the time they got Bård into his new parka he was still shivering and breathing heavily.  Vegard helped him step into the silvery survival bag from the ditch case and propped him up to sit unsteadily with his back braced against the boulder.  He wasn't sure what to do about Bård's wet trainers, sitting next to his bag. Wool socks might still hold in heat.  Maybe he should start a fire. "You have spare shoes?"

Bård shakily pulled on gloves.  "Boots… in my bag.  I can't …  catch my…  breath…"

Vegard pulled the boots out of Bård's bag and handed them to him.  "Put them on. You're hyperventilating. It's a shock response to the cold water. Try to concentrate on breathing more slowly. " 

Bård nodded and hugged himself.  After a few more minutes his breathing came easier and he looked up at Vegard.  He was kneeling in front of their bags, still only wearing his long-sleeved undershirt and was muttering to himself.  There was blood sprinkled on the bags and in the snow.

"Vegard, what are you doing?"

Vegard was digging through the ditch case. "The plane's GPS said there was a highway six kilometers or so to the east and some sort of little town farther still.  There's no hurry now. You'll warm up a little and we'll go.  We have about three hours of sunlight left."  He pulled two chemical heat packs out of the case, broke them open and pushed them into the Bård's hands. "Put those on your upper legs. Not the feet."

"I know what to do.  Put on your coat."

Vegard glanced up at the sky. "Probably a little less than three hours."  He shook his head and said, "You need a scarf." 

"There's blood everywhere, Vegard."

"Don't worry, Bård.  It's going to be okay." 

"You're bleeding on everything."

 Vegard nodded and said, "Once you warm up we'll go get help."

Bård shouted angrily, "Stop talking! You've been shot! Look at your left arm."

Vegard paused and looked down at himself. He had been so flooded with adrenaline and endorphins that he was only now starting to feel the cold. He frowned at the sleeve of his thermal undershirt.  The cuff was saturated with blood.  There were at least two holes in the fabric.  And blood had run down his hand and fingers.  Bård was right; he'd been spattering blood everywhere.

Vegard pulled up the blood-soaked sleeve to reveal two holes in his upper forearm to match the ones in his sleeve, entry and exit wounds of the bullet.  The bullet must have passed through the muscle but miraculously hadn't hit a bone or major artery.   It was bad, but it could have been a lot worse.  It hadn't even hurt when it happened.  But now that he saw it, he realized that it hurt to move his thumb or bend his arm. There was a lot of blood, but he was the big brother.  He had to take care of this himself. Stick to the plan.

Shivering, he pulled out the First Aid kit and stripped off his ruined undershirt.  He declined Bård's offer to bandage his arm and did it himself, trying not to be distracted by the sound of Bård's chattering teeth.  Or maybe his own teeth were making the sound.  It was hard to tell.  When he was finished he pulled on a sweater, washed his hands in the snow and finally shrugged into his red parka.  He turned back toward Bård to find him watching him soberly.

Bård was still shivering but he said, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"It's not bad."

"You lost a lot of blood."

" _Nei, nei, nei_ , it's fine.  Are you feeling better?"

Bård ignored the question and motioned to Vegard's hands.  "You usually hate having snow on your hands for long.  What are you doing?"

Vegard realized he was passing a blood-streaked ball of snow between his hands.  He dropped it and said, _"_ Don't worry about me."  Vegard didn't want to start crying or puking again, so he said, "We'll go through our bags and only take what we need.  Warm up. Then we'll go."   He put his own wool hat on Bård's wet and rapidly freezing hair and pulled the hood of Bård's parka back up snugly over it, letting the thick coyote fur flutter around his drawn face. Bård was watching him intently, but let him adjust the fastenings without protest.  Vegard thought perhaps the near-death experience had knocked some of the cockiness out of him.  Other than on the rare occasion of a drinking binge or a bad flu on the road, he didn't take care of Bård like this very often. Not since they were little. Nowadays Bård was more often the one fixing his clothes or pushing him out of harm's way.  But this felt familiar and good and safe and not at all like having someone's face explode on you.  Suddenly he felt like crying.  He always just wanted to be a self-reliant man who could fix everything and he realized now he couldn't.  He never could or would.  And now he had killed Bård and himself.  They would die out here in the snow.  Their children would lose their fathers, their parents their sons.  It was his fault. All his own stupid fault.

Bård said urgently, "Vegard.  Vegard!" 

"What is it?"

 Bård said, "You stopped responding to me."

"Did I?"

"Your hands are like ice.  Put on your gloves."

Vegard wondered if The Man's corpse would freeze solid in the water of the lake.  He would be preserved for the police, he expected.  His entire body shuddered violently with an electric shock of revulsion.  Maybe he would feel better if he puked again.  It wouldn't matter if he died.  He deserved to die.  He was a murderer.

Bård grabbed his right arm and shook him. "Vegard, snap out of it!"   When Vegard blinked heavily at him Bård held out the heat packs and ordered, "Take these and warm up your damn hands. We should call for help."

Vegard silently took the packs and jammed his freezing hands into the lined pockets of his parka, willing them to warm up enough to dig through his bag for gloves.  They hurt. He wondered why he hadn't noticed. That was very odd. 

Bård began angrily tearing the store tags off of his parka and tossing them to the ground.  He looked over at the plane wing sticking out of the ice and said mournfully, "Well, my phone died a watery frozen death.  Do you have yours?"

"Yeah in my back pocket."

"Turn around, I'll get it.  Keep your hands in your pockets." Vegard complied and Bård pulled out his phone.  Bård's hand in his pocket reminded him of The Man patting him down, the nose of The Man's pistol against his neck.  And then he thought of little shards of The Man's shattered teeth that had clung to his flannel shirt.   He shuddered again violently with a seizure of disgust.

"Fuck, Vegard, you're _freaking out_.  Sit down or I'll make you."

"Is my phone okay?"

"I'll tell you if you sit down. You're in shock." Bård pulled on his arm and noticed the handcuff.  "What the hell did he handcuff onto you?"

Vegard wobbled a bit and looked dumbly at his right wrist.  The handcuff was still there and the little attached black case was stuck up in the sleeve of his coat. Somehow he'd forgotten all about it. That was also very odd. "I don't know. If your hand is warmed up can you get it off of me?  My left hand is useless for now.  I think there was a paperclip or pen in one of these bags."

"Sit.  Down."

"Fine."  Vegard put the ditch case next to Bård and sat on it. "What about my phone?"

"No signal."

Vegard sighed.  He held out his right arm.  "Take this handcuff off of me.  I want it off."

They had both learned how to open handcuffs during a flirtation with magic tricks during their school years and Bård got the handcuff off in short order.  Bård looked curiously at the attached locked case and listened to it. "I don't think it's a bomb." He slammed it violently against the boulder they were leaning against.  The closure broke and flipped open to reveal a bright orange plastic egg wrapped in paper.  The paper had a handwritten note on it that looked vaguely Arabic.  Nestled in the back of the case was a tiny flash drive. He opened and then showed Vegard the egg.  "It's a GPS tracker, right?  Are those our coordinates?" 

"Yeah I think so." 

"Why would he put that on you?"

Vegard shrugged, staring at the ground, trying not to think about The Man's face.   Even The Man had a mother.  Would she miss him?  Maybe he had been a devoted son. 

"Vegard!"

Vegard blinked heavily at his brother, still holding up the egg.  He said, "Oh.  Right.  We'll mark down the coordinates so we'll know where this plane is."

Bård nodded and used Vegard's smartphone to take a photo of the GPS readout.

Vegard said softly, "We'll have to tell… someone. He's still in there." He suddenly wondered if he would be arrested for murder right away.  Then he wondered if he could go home before the trial to say goodbye to his family or if they'd have to come to Canada.  He couldn't remember if Canada had the death penalty. It didn't matter, though, because he'd already killed them both.

"Vegard.  Listen to me.  It was self-defense. You did the right thing. _Jesus_ , zip up your coat."

Vegard pulled the zipper up.  

Bård added, "Canada doesn't have the death penalty."

"How did you know I was thinking about that?"

Bård frowned at him.  "Because you were just talking about it?  You've been muttering non-stop."

"Was I? That's a little strange."

"Vegard.  Look at me.  Listen to me carefully.  Did you hit your head when we crashed?"

Vegard shook his head slowly.  "I don't know.  I feel a little dizzy."  He put his hand on his forehead. 

"You should lie down.  Lean against me."

Vegard shook his head.  "I'm okay.  Listen, you can probably last two or three weeks out here without food."

" _Jesus,_ Vegard.  You're scaring me. What the hell are you talking about now?"

"I'm just saying I'll probably die first; you should eat me, I wouldn't mind."

Bård asked, in an English accent, _"What, with a gammy leg?"_

Vegard frowned at him.  "I'm serious. Definitely eat my liver.  It will have a lot of vitamins in it."

Bård grunted. "Okay, that's it. Get in the damned bag with me. Right now."

Vegard chewed his lip.  He expected the best thing to do was to act as if he hadn't already killed them both.  To act as if there was some hope of survival. "We should go. Can you walk now?"

"No.  You didn't kill us.  It's Canada, not the fucking North Pole.  Put on your damn gloves, zip your coat all the way up, and get in the fucking bag.  I swear I will beat the crap out of you if you don't do it right now."

Vegard frowned down at him.  "Okay."  He slid in next to his brother, pulling the edge of the sack up to their shoulders.   It was a tight fit but after a lifetime of sibling wrestling, tumbling and working together they knew how to make room in a tight space.  The parkas were keeping them warm enough on top. "What's cold?"

Bård shook his head, exasperated.  "I don't know.  Legs."

Vegard tangled his own legs with Bård's. "Okay."

"Lean against me, take a few deep breaths."

"Not a problem." 

" _Oh my god_ , Vegard, stop crying.  It's over. We're okay."

"I'm not crying."

Bård ground his teeth and glanced around them. He wondered how far he could carry Vegard if and when he passed out.  "At least I don't see any bears."

"If one comes by we'll play dead." Vegard shuddered violently again, like he always did when he was disgusted by something.

"What the hell was that?"

 Vegard hesitated and finally said, "The gun blew off his face."

"Ah."  Bård sighed and put his arm around his brother, patting his back.  He didn't really know what to say.  Finally he offered, "That's fucked up."

 "Yeah."

They sat quietly for a few minutes and Vegard's heart finally stopped pounding.  Maybe Bård was right and he was in shock.  Being in shock would not be helpful. "Sorry."

Bård nodded.  " _Keep it together_ , Vegard." Although his hair was still wet, Bård was starting to feel warmer and his chest wasn't screaming with pain any more.   And he thought he should stay put at least until Vegard calmed down.   After that he didn't know what they'd do.  Maybe someone would send a search party. Vegard was acting crazy. Usually he was the one who took problems in stride, or at least quietly.  Bård felt angry and helpless and terrified. Vegard gave him a gentle hug but didn't say anything.  For some reason that only made Bård's anger and terror worse.  He felt like punching something.  He asked softly, "How did you know to bring extreme weather parkas?  And the bracelet you gave me.  It's one of those survival rope things, right?  Did you know this would happen?"

" _Nei, nei, nei,_ that was a coincidence."

"But you thought it was pretty likely we would crash out here in the middle of nowhere Canada."

Vegard pulled back and scowled at him. "Of course not.  I just like always being prepared."

"But you still thought it would be a good idea to fly a private plane out here."

"I… Yes.  I just thought…"

"You smell like blood.  Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

Vegard felt his heart starting to pound again. "Just tell me when you can walk again. Otherwise… shut up."

"You shut up.  And sit still.  You're hurt."

Vegard sighed and rested his forehead against Bård's shoulder.  This really was completely his fault.  Even if it weren't, he expected he should let Bård have a bit of a tantrum and get it out of his system.  Maybe it wasn't hopeless.  He needed to keep up his spirits.  He wondered what it would feel like to freeze to death.  He'd heard it was a painless way to go.

Bård let out a long slow breath.  "I'm not having a tantrum and we're not going to freeze to death."

Vegard shook his head, mystified again as to how Bård was reading his mind.

After twenty minutes of angry followed by awkward silence Bård decided they needed to leave and said so.  Five minutes later he'd gotten both of them ready to move away from the plane.  Vegard used a wax marker from the ditch case to write on the bag they were leaving behind: "Bård and Vegard Ylvisåker.  Both Alive. Heading East with compass". He took a last look at the plane; the water was already starting to freeze around the wreck.

As Bård shouldered their combined bag, Vegard motioned with the compass he'd taken from the ditch case.  "This way's east."

Bård snatched the compass out of Vegard's hand. Vegard still looked dazed and was nearly as pale as the snow.   But they had to move before he passed out. There was no choice. "Let's go."

 


	3. A Paper Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård takes charge as the brothers look for rescue in the snow.

They'd been trudging through about a foot of snow for almost an hour, still silent, and still _fucking_ freezing.   Bård was uncomfortable and tired, but his anger and fear had melted away and he was terribly worried about Vegard.  Vegard had stopped talking and shrugged off Bård's attempts to hold his arm.   Bård had fallen a bit behind him, thinking it was safer if he could watch where Vegard was walking.

So his silent brother was trudging a bit ahead of him, walking with his usual clumsy gait, looking a bit absurd.  Bundled up in his big red parka and giant gloves Vegard looked like a man-sized toddler.  Bård knew that even if Vegard was bleeding or injured he would keep walking until he dropped for Bård's sake; he was stupid that way.  Even if he weren't injured, he was stewing in his own juices and that wasn't good for him.  And he looked awful.  Maybe he had a concussion.  Or was bleeding internally.  The thought made Bård feel like screaming.

Bård suddenly remembered the GoPro. He'd jammed it into a coat pocket back by the wreck.   He pulled off a glove and took it out.  He jogged up to walk beside Vegard and said cheerily into the camera, "Well, we just had an adventure.  We were kidnapped and in a plane crash and Vegard got shot by a psychopath."

Vegard shook his head and said quietly, "I don't want to do this now."

Bård continued,  "He got shot, pulled me out of the crash like Spider-man, saved me from drowning, gave me his hat and insisted I eat his liver."

Vegard stopped and turned.  "Spider-man?"

"You yanked me out of that plane with one arm. _Spidey strength_."

Vegard shrugged.  "Did you deserve to be saved, Mary Jane?"

"No, I'm a real asshole."

Vegard sighed, shook his head and started forward again.

Bård persisted, "So you regret not letting me drown?"

"Of course not.  Turn that stupid thing off."

Bård swallowed convulsively; he knew Jack Ryan's death would fuck up his softhearted brother for a long time.  Vegard got quiet even when he saw dead cats or dogs on the roadside.  Jack Ryan had been a criminal, and probably a murderer, but he had been a human being. If Bård had been the one to kill Jack Ryan, he'd be upset, of course, but at least he'd talk about it. Vegard would bottle it up.

Bård persisted, saying, "Maybe we will be eaten by a polar bear and all the Mounties will find left of us is this camera. We should preserve our last moments in high definition.  We can leave a message for our-"

Vegard cut him off. " _Jesus Christ_.  No! Anyway, there aren't polar bears this far south."

"You have a concussion but you still _have_ to correct me."

"I don't have a concussion!"

Bård sighed and watched Vegard hunch up his shoulders and speed up his pace.  He was definitely going to be fucked up about this.  A movement caught Bård's eye and to their right he saw a moose emerging from the edge of a forest.  "Stop. Vegard.  Stop! There's a moose."

Vegard turned to look.  They'd encountered enough moose in Norway to know better than to interact with the enormous things in the wild.  He didn't know if the moose in Canada were any different, but this one was still fairly far off.   It looked at them for a long moment and then turned and meandered back into the forest.

Vegard gave a soft and unenthusiastic cheer. "Good news. The moose decided not to kill us today." He glanced at Bård.

Bård raised a brow at him and then said in a mincing English accent, _"Oh, you lucky bastard!"_ They stared at each other for a long moment and then both began giggling at the Python reference. Bård tried to hold the camera on Vegard but eventually gave up and leaned on his knees, howling with laughter.

Vegard choked out, "You should have… seen your face..."

"No, you should have seen _your_ s.  You didn't… even know…" Bård gave up trying to stand and fell to his knees, dropping the bag, and holding his sides, desperately trying to stop laughing and crying.

Vegard leaned on his knee with his good arm, composing himself.  Finally he stood, shaking his head and sniffed wetly, saying, "I think we might be hysterical."

Bård grimaced ruefully and wiped his eyes. "Yeah.  Let's not make any binding legal decisions today." He pushed himself up again and the bright orange GPS tracker fell out of his pocket.

Vegard sobered abruptly.  "Why do you still have that?"

"I thought it might – "

"Get rid of it."

Bård picked it up.  "Why?"

Vegard flushed with anger.  "I told you to get rid of it!" He strode over, grabbed the egg and threw it into a nearby snow-covered bush.

Bård whistled.  "You know, a GPS tracker might be useful when you are _lost in the middle of nowhere_.  And now-" He was interrupted by the sound of a bus or truck horn. 

Vegard whirled.  "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know; wait here." Bård took off at a run toward the east. Vegard followed as best he could into another patch of trees.  He collided with Bård when he stopped abruptly at the edge of a highway. Less than a quarter mile down the road there was a semitrailer truck parked facing towards them, its hazard lights flashing.

Bård walked out onto the road and waved his arms at the truck.  It gave two quick honks.  "That's more like it."

"Bård, wait.  It could be dangerous.  There's a town only another _mil_ away."

"You are shot and bleeding and acting completely crazy. My feet are killing me. And I don't want to carry your _sorry ass_ when you pass out."

"I'm not bleeding.  Or acting crazy."

Bård rolled his eyes and grabbed Vegard's good arm tightly and said forcefully, "Fucking hell!  Just _shut up_!" He took off at a brisk pace toward the truck, dragging his brother behind him. 

 

 * * *

 

When they'd walked up to the cab of the truck the driver glanced at them indifferently and hooked a thumb towards the back. Bård tried knocking on the window but the driver responded by aiming a pistol at them.  They backed off.

As they walked to the back of the trailer Vegard said, "Maybe he thinks we're serial killers and doesn't want us in the cab with him?"

Bård sighed.  "I thought maybe he had one of those _CB radios_ we could use if the phones don't work out here.  But what can we do? I honestly don't think you should walk any farther."

Vegard looked up at the truck.  On a white background a rainbow of colors danced through a black logo reading "Imprimerie du Renard, Ville de Québec, Québec". He glanced down the road and tried to remember what he'd seen before the crash.  He could swear he'd seen a town on the GPS another few kilometers east, but it was getting dark and the area was likely home to wolves or bears. They didn't have a choice.

Bård sprang onto the step of the trailer and pulled up the door.  The inside would be out of the wind and  a welcoming scent of vanilla wafted toward them.  Inside were pallets of boxes that were labeled as paper.  The paper boxes only filled about two-thirds of the space; there was plenty of room for them.  Bård leaned down to give Vegard a hand up and then closed the door behind him.  They moved to the front of the trailer, where there was a light installed. Bård pounded his fist against the wall to let the driver know they were inside.

Vegard unzipped his jacket.  "It seems warmer in here.  Must be only around 5 degrees or so."

"Yeah, it's _fucking Brazil."_

"Do you think this was some sort of trap?"

"Why on earth do you think it's a trap?" Bård pulled off a glove and reached down to feel the floor of the trailer.  It was cold.

Vegard frowned.  "Well he was just sitting here.  And it is warmer inside and there's a light."

Bård started rearranging a few boxes on a pallet near the light.  "So he just parks in the middle of nowhere and waits for plane crash survivors?  That's his evil scheme?"

Vegard nodded.  "Serial killers are crazy."

"You're fixated on serial killers."

"We don't know where he's going."

"I guess we'll find out when we get there. Wherever it is will probably have a phone."

They startled when there was a loud clang from the door.  Bård sprinted over to try the handle. 

Vegard groaned, "Locked in?"

"Yeah."  Bård paced back and forth several steps and then shouted simply, _"Faen!"_ He turned towards Vegard, his face flushed and angry.

"I told you.  He's probably going to shoot and eat us."

"No one is going to eat anyone!"

"Then why lock us in?"

Bård let out a breath. "I don't know, maybe he doesn't want hitchhikers stealing things and running off when he stops at a stoplight?

Vegard frowned and then helpfully offered, "Maybe it can't get worse?"

" _Kjempeflott!_ Now you've cursed us." Bård yanked off his other glove, pulled back his hood, whipped off his hat and pushed both his hands through his still damp hair, muttering a long string of profanities in a variety of languages.  The truck began moving.  Bård grunted again with frustration, walked back to where Vegard stood and finished rearranging the boxes.  They both climbed up on the pallet and into the little nest Bård had made.  Bård unzipped his parka and started pulling off his boots. He asked irritably, "Why does it smell like candles in here?"

"Scented paper.  See, it says "French vanilla" on the side of those boxes."

"Now I'm hungry."

Vegard offered,  "I have some protein bars."

"Of course you do!" 

"And there's a bottle of water in the bag."

"Of course there is."  Bård pulled off his sock and peered at his foot. " _Oi, oi, oi,_ these new boots gave me blisters. At least it doesn't look frostbitten."

"I don't think you would get frostbitten with those boots in such a short time."

Bård sucked in a breath.  He didn't want a lecture.  His feet hurt.  He glared at his brother and simultaneously wanted to punch and hug him.  He thought he probably shouldn't punch a man with a bullet wound.  And Vegard was so delirious and confused he knew if he hugged him Vegard would start crying again.  He already looked like death and Bård couldn't bear seeing him so distraught.  And he hadn't really meant to yell at him before; he'd just been angry and a little scared.  He wondered what exactly Vegard was thinking about, but was afraid to ask for fear it was something completely demented. 

For his part, Vegard tried to ignore Bård's angry silence and started pulling off his own boots with difficulty. He worried that maybe he should also have found both of them high end boots during his shopping excursion. On the other hand, he had gotten the Arctic parkas for them, which was really lucky.   And the parka was really keeping him warm.  He considered the various layers insulating him with tiny layers of trapped air, reflecting heat back to his body and wicking moisture away from his skin; modern fabric technology was really interesting.  Much more interesting than the inner anatomy of the human face.   Anyway, he should be happy to be alive. And he'd always thought Canada was pretty cool.  Well, right now he wasn't so sure, but it was definitely interesting.   He felt incredibly dizzy.  Best not to tell Bård.   Best to just act as if they weren't trapped in a truck with a probably violently insane serial killer driver who meant to murder them in some twisted way.  He'd just have to be ready when he attacked them.  He wondered if there was some way to make Arctic parkas with Kevlar.  That would be incredibly cool. There probably weren't a lot of firefights at the North Pole, so there wouldn't be a market for such a thing, although it would be cool. Anyway, layering was always better. He wondered if Bård was wearing enough layers to be comfortable; he seemed so angry.  Maybe he was just cold.  Vegard wondered what Bård was thinking, but he was afraid to ask.  He was afraid Bård would tell him outright that he hated him for killing them.  He glanced at his brother.

Bård was chewing his lip, watching him solemnly. Vegard blinked heavily at him but held his gaze.  Finally Bård said gently, "I don't hate you.  Of course I don't hate you."

Vegard let out a shuddering sigh of relief and felt his eyes stinging again. 

Bård added, "You know, even I had no idea your internal monologue was so unbelievably boring."   He motioned towards Vegard's head, "You were thinking out loud again."

"Was I?"

"Yeah."

They sat silently next to each other for a while, both lost in their thoughts, swaying with the movement of the truck. Bård pulled his socks back on but his feet still hurt like hell.  He thought it would be unmanly to complain about them after Vegard had taken a bullet.  He leaned his head back against a box and tried to focus. He considered his brother again; Vegard was studying his own hands and looked terribly forlorn. Bård blew out a long breath, thinking about what he should do if Vegard passed out or started having seizures or some such.  Maybe it was pointless to worry about it.  But still… finally Bård asked, "Should we look at your arm?"

Vegard ducked his head, acknowledging the silent apology. "Maybe we should."

Bård helped him slip off his parka and sucked in a breath when he saw the state of Vegard's arm.  The bandage was soaked through with blood but when they uncovered the injury it had at least stopped bleeding.  Bård re-dressed and bandaged it.  "You should have let me do this the first time. Try not to move it."

"Okay."

Bård got on his knees and inspected Vegard's head with a flashlight from the bag, despite Vegard's protest.  "You've got a cut and bump here, on your left side of your head.  It was bleeding." He poked it and Vegard yelped.

" _Au!_ Cut it out!" Vegard reached up to feel it and shrugged.  

Bård clucked at him.  "Let me at least try to clean it off or put on some ointment." He reached for the last of their first aid kit supplies.

While Bård tended to his head Vegard asked, "You think that man was really a _bad guy_?"

"Yes I do.  You can't judge him by his promising not to shoot us. If he was going to shoot us he'd definitely have waited until we landed to do it."

"I was thinking that if he were CIA or even a _Mountie_ all he would have had to do is show us his ID and we would have gone along with him."

Bård nudged Vegard's arm.  "Don't worry.  You did the right thing.  What if the kids had been in the plane?  You wouldn't have hesitated to kill him outright. I would have broken his fucking neck."

Vegard shuddered at the thought of his children in danger. It had been bad enough being terrified about Bård getting hurt.

Bård persisted, "You told me if someone draws a handgun on you then you should assume he's willing to shoot you."

Vegard let out a ragged breath.  "I just wish I knew for certain. And I can't understand why he handcuffed that case onto me.   You think just to intimidate me?"

Bård thought a moment and remembered the jump drive he'd found in the case.  "Maybe it was important to him? In case we crashed and he died it would survive? Maybe he was just crazy."

"Maybe."

Bård finished cleaning the wound.  It had bled a lot and it looked like Vegard might need a stitch or two.  He sighed and settled back down next to his brother.  "Listen to me.  Get out your food bar and eat it.  You lost a lot of blood.  You're going to pass out at this rate."  As Vegard pulled out his snack Bård reached into his own pocket and pulled out the slip of paper.  "This was in with that orange GPS tracker.  What language is that?  Thai?"

Vegard squinted at the scrawled handwriting. "I don't think so. Maybe Hindi?"

Bård let out a breath.  "Vegard?"

"Yeah?"

"This has been one _fucked_ _up_ day." 

"It really has."

 

* * *

 

Three hours later Vegard still had no signal on his phone and he was getting alarmed.  An hour after that he was positively panicked.  "By now everyone thinks we're dead."

Bård had been drowsing.  "What? Why?"

"We're four hours overdue to land. They'll assume we crashed. The plane couldn't stay in the air that long; it would run out of fuel."

Bård nodded.  "I hope they don't sell the boat right away."

"This is serious."

"I know it's serious.  But we're stuck here so there's no point in obsessing about it.  Go to sleep. You need to rest."

"I can't sleep."  Vegard looked back at his phone.

Bård held out his hand.  "Give me your phone.  If it gets signal I'll wake you up."

Vegard hesitated, and then nodded and turned over the phone.  "Don't fall asleep. The driver might try something."

Bård hesitated for a moment and then decided it was easiest to just play along.  "I won't."

Vegard pulled up the hood of his open jacket, slid down until he was lying on the floor of the nest, turned on his right side, and went to sleep.  As soon as Bård was convinced he was really sleeping he closed his eyes as well.


	4. The Middle of Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bård gets a scare and the brothers find a possible safe haven.

Chapter 4:The Middle of Nowhere

The truck's brakes squealed and jarred Bård awake. The truck was slowing down and turning onto the side of the road; the trailer bounced from side to side as the wheels rolled over the rougher terrain. Bård hastily activated Vegard's phone. Still no signal. And it was six hours later. And the battery was almost spent. Surely the truck had stopped at some point for petrol? Even if it had, they were a long way from where they'd started. They'd better get out now if they could. "Vegard, wake up. I think we're stopping." He bent over and started putting his boots back on. "Hey. Wake up."

Vegard didn't respond. Bård froze and his heart leapt to his mouth. He looked at his brother. Vegard was lying on his side, facing him, perfectly still. His lips were pale and his jaw hung slack.

Bård said more hesitantly, "Vegard?"

Nothing.

With his pulse pounding in his ears Bård poked Vegard's shoulder. Still nothing. Bård felt a wave of panic rush over him and whispered, " _Oh my god._ Vegard?"

Suddenly they were both thrown forward as the truck came to an abrupt halt. Vegard startled awake and sat up abruptly, wild-eyed. "What's happening?!" He looked around fearfully and then met eyes with Bård. "What is it?!"

Bård frowned at him and punched him in his good arm. "You asshole!"

"What the hell was that for?!"

"Fucking hell, I thought you were dead. Again!"

Vegard gaped at Bård for a moment and then shook his head, groaning, _"Jesus Christ."_

Bård finished tying his own boots and growled, "Put on your fucking boots."

Vegard glared at him reproachfully. "I hope you're pleased because now both my arms hurt!" Vegard took hold of one of his own boots and frowned at it. His left hand was now too painful to be useful; he'd have to put the boot on with one hand. He wondered aloud how one-armed people put on their clothes. Maybe they used Velcro for everything.

Bård snatched the boot away from his brother and unlaced it. "Don't struggle with that."

Vegard reached for the boot, shaking his head. "I can do it."

Bård shouted at him, "Give me your foot you fucking idiot and I'll put on your boots for you because you're such fucking useless shit!"

"I'm not useless!"

" _Jesus,_ I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Vegard studied Bård as he helped him put on his boots and offered softly, "I don't know why you're so angry I'm not dead."

"Just shut up! Fuck! I hate my fucking life!"

Vegard smiled as Bård finished violently tying his boots for him and said, "I love you too."

Bård let out an angry breath and pulled Vegard to his feet as the door to the trailer clanked loudly and rolled up. It was night outside. The driver looked at them expectantly.

Vegard said softly, "Be careful, he might have his gun."

Bård rolled his eyes and asked in English, "Hello? Where are we?"

The driver said nothing. Bård thought he looked a bit East Asian and wondered if he was an Eskimo. Did they call them Eskimos in Canada? He decided it was better not to ask. Instead he said, "Où sommes-nous?" The driver replied with something unintelligible and beckoned them to come outside. Vegard was still grimacing in pain so Bård gathered up their few belongings, shoved them in Vegard's bag and escorted his brother out of the trailer.

The driver nodded, shut the trailer door and walked toward the front of the truck. Bård glanced around them; there were no buildings or lights anywhere nearby. "Wait! Wait a minute!" The driver was already in the cab and had started rolling the truck forward. Bård ran after him and pounded on his door yelling for him to stop without success.

He hurled a stream of profanities at the departing vehicle and stalked back to Vegard. "Well, the good news is that he wasn't a serial killer. Now what?"

"Are you going to punch me again if I say I don't know?"

"No." Bård checked his watch. "It's about midnight. Where are we, do you think?"

Vegard looked up at the sky. "Much farther north."

"Constellations?" He followed his brother's gaze.

"…and Northern Lights."

Bård sighed. "So, much, much farther north. Do you think north enough for polar bears now?"

"Well, there are still trees, so I don't think so."

"Ah, right." Bård zipped his parka back up and looked around, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. He caught a glint of light and pointed. "What's that?"

"Let's find out."

Bård dug around for the flashlight in their bag and clicked it on. He was startled by a small shadow flitting past his feet. Probably a little ground squirrel. He found the idea of squirrels underfoot strangely reassuring.

They turned off the road and into the silent forest. Between the flashlight and the moonlight they could see the way fairly easily and the snow underneath their feet crunched satisfyingly as they walked. When the trees suddenly cleared Vegard stopped abruptly and whispered. "This might be bad." The object they'd seen before was revealed to be a large satellite dish, pointed toward the sky. It was perched on a low concrete structure, covered in snow and surrounded by a variety of large metal boxes and pipes.

"Bad? Maybe it's a radio outpost, military or something."

"Wouldn't there be a sign?"

"I don't know."

When they neared the low structure there wasn't a door to be seen. So they sat down despondently next to each other on the edge of the raised concrete and looked up at the sky.

Bård sighed, "What the hell happened today?"

"I don't know. Maybe wolves will attack us now. We should make weapons."

Bård blinked into the darkness, vaguely wishing Vegard would fall asleep again.

Vegard leaned back and rested on his good arm. "Everyone at home surely thinks we're dead."

Bård heaved another sigh. "They'll find the plane. The message you left."

"If they do… maybe they'll assume we just got lost and that will be the end of it. There'd be no way to know we'd ridden in a truck all this way. I suppose we could try following the road for a while."

Bård groaned with frustration and flopped backwards. He sat back up abruptly muttering _"Oi, oi, oi!"_ He rubbed the back of his head.

"What's the matter?"

"I hit my head." Bård twisted around and swept the snow off the offending object. It was the rounded edge of a circular port. They climbed up and cleared the snow away. The metal port was covered in rivets and had a large wheel on the top. Bård cast the flashlight over it and read out, "Canadian Department of National Defence Outpost 995 Private Property."

Vegard passed his gloved hand over the raised letters. "This might be one of those early warning stations from the 1970s."

"You really know a lot of useless shit."

"It's not useless. It's cool. There's still a North American warning system up here somewhere, a newer one, to keep Russia and China from attacking them over the North Pole." Vegard tried the wheel. It moved slightly. "Can you open it? My left arm is useless."

Bård nodded and took hold of the wheel. It yielded easily and he pulled the hatch open. He aimed the flashlight downward. "It's an entry hatch. There's a ladder."

Vegard frowned. "If it were old it shouldn't have opened so easily. And there would be more rust or…"

Bård sighed. "Wait here; I'll go check for monsters and serial killers." He lowered himself down the ladder and disappeared, reappearing after a few seconds. "It goes down four or five meters. I can see lights on down a hallway. There are definitely people here."

Vegard glanced up at the giant satellite dish. He expected if there were people here they probably at least had internet or phone access. "They might not like visitors."

"I'm sure we can charm them into inviting us to stay."

Vegard shrugged. "I suppose we either go down or stay out here and die of exposure and wolves."

"Right. Whatever. Can you make it down with your arm?"

"Yeah."

Bård shouldered their bag and climbed back down the ladder a few feet. "Come after me. I'll catch you if you fall."

"I don't want to get shot again. If we run into anyone, be dumb and nonthreatening."

"Right, got it."

They climbed down without incident and sure enough the bottom of the ladder was at the end of a stark hallway. It was dusty, but there were visible treadmarks on the linoleum floor and the hall was heated. The place was definitely occupied. An old-style 1970s video camera was mounted in the middle of the ceiling, but its wires hung loose and unattached.

They moved slowly along the dark corridor, toward an intersection with light ahead, and it was only a few seconds before they heard a soft exclamation of surprise and a door open and close.

Bård called out, _"Hello?"_ He looked at Vegard and shrugged.

Thirty seconds later they could clearly hear the sound of approaching boots. As they rounded a corner they found themselves face to face with two men in fatigues pointing assault rifles at them.

Bård didn't hesitate to take charge. He raised his hands, smiled at the men and said in heavily accented English, "Hallo! Vee ahre so happy to see you!"

"Keep your hands up. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Yes, hallo! Vee ahre terribly lost, you see. Vee vere hitchhiking, as you say, ond de lorry driver dumped us off here in de middle of novhere, you see."

Vegard fell into routine and tried to look as small and worried as possible. These men seemed very agitated; it was probably best to look frightened.

The two men glanced at each other. One was older, maybe in his late 30s, dark skinned, huge and muscled. His army-issue nametag said "Hallas". The other was blond, a bit younger, and was called "Weber". Weber said, "This is a military outpost."

"So sorry, you see, but vee did not want to freeze ond die ond vee saw your satellite dish." He shrugged.

Hallas said, "Get on your knees and put your hands on your head."

Bård nodded, "Yes, ya." He looked at Vegard and said rapidly in Norwegian, "Are we doing this then?"

Vegard nodded, _"Ja, ja."_ He slowly dropped to his knees and raised his hands carefully. His arm hurt enough that his eyes watered but he didn't want to draw attention to the wound. He studied the two soldiers. He thought they looked too scruffy and agitated to be legitimate soldiers; but they might not hesitate to shoot them.

Weber took their bag, opened their coats, patted them down for weapons and then motioned for them to stand.

The men led them into a room with a few folding chairs, cuffed their hands behind their backs, and left. Vegard grimaced in pain; in this position his wounded arm was in agony. He pulled off his left glove. It didn't help.

"Vegard."

Vegard blinked heavily and was embarrassed to be crying again. He looked at Bård and hissed in Norwegian, "I'm not scared; my arm just hurts like hell."

"If you're going to cry, turn it up. It won't hurt if they pity you a little, right?"

Vegard glanced around and didn't see a security camera. He said, "I don't know if they're real soldiers. I wonder if we should really tell them who we are."

"Maybe if they think we'll be missed they'll be less likely to shoot us."

"Yeah or maybe they'll think it would be safer for them if we disappeared without a trace."

Bård nodded. "I'll use our usual story." They'd invented a fake family name and background when they were teenagers to keep their parents from finding out when they got into trouble. "What if they ask for the reason you were shot? Tell the truth?"

"Hard to keep our stories straight otherwise."

"Okay."

Vegard thought for a moment. "Actually, maybe say we had a pilot, my pilot friend Jan Hansen, that also died. We were in the back seat. Pilots all know English and I've just decided I don't."

Bård nodded. "Okay." He glanced down at the floor underneath Vegard's chair. "Jesus, you're bleeding again. Try not to move."

Vegard could feel blood running down his wrist and hand. Surely his sleeve and coat would have soaked up new blood. He must be bleeding heavily now for it to be dripping past his cuff. "Not moving."

A minute or so later the two men re-entered, grabbed Bård and took him out of the room without giving him a chance to protest. Vegard looked around the room; it was just an old office with an empty desk, two chairs, an empty locker and no clock, phone or cameras. He tried to keep his arm still but after another few minutes he was in enough pain to be groaning aloud. Fortunately it was only another few minutes after that when two new men, also wearing fatigues, came in to the room and unlocked his handcuffs. One was an Asian with the name "Li" displayed on his uniform, the other was a young redhead evidently named "Martin".

Li said, "Well, shit. The other guy was telling the truth. He's bleeding like a stuck pig." He looked at Vegard, "Take off your coat."

Vegard realized he had to steel himself to absolutely not react to anything they said. He wanted to keep the advantage he would have if they didn't think he spoke English. And he wouldn't give that up until they brought Bård back unharmed. So he made the conscious decision to just dial up the crying and gave in to the terror of the last twelve hours. His vision blurred and he began sobbing in earnest. The two men backed up.

Li glanced at Martin and muttered, "Dude. What the fuck is this shit?"

Martin held up his hands, "Hey, now. Don't get all upset."

Li grimaced, "He's getting blood everywhere. You think he has AIDS or something? Maybe we should get like some gloves."

"You think he's gay?"

"Maybe they're like a couple."

"The other one said they're brothers. They do look alike."

Li cursed. "Shit, get him to take off his coat."

"You do it. The other one said this one hit his head."

"Maybe he's going to go all mental."

They motioned for him to take off his coat and finally just approached him slowly and pulled the coat off of him as he stood miserably, choking out hoarse sobs.

Li looked at Vegard straight on and said very slowly and loudly, "Fuck, stop crying. Did you get shot?"

Vegard put his hand over his face and backed up.

Li grabbed his arm and pointed his finger, "Hey. Buddy? Gun? Bang Bang?"

Vegard sucked in a breath, looked at Li, and began all-out bawling. He found the exercise very cathartic; no wonder toddlers did it with such gusto.

Li pointed to Vegard's bandaged arm and shouted. "We can take care of this for you!" He turned to Martin and said, "Jesus, get him a Kleenex or something." Martin retreated through the door.

While they waited Li nodded and smiled at Vegard as if he were a small child. "No, no, calm down, you dumb fuck. Sit back down."

Martin returned with a box of tissues and Vegard took some, making as big of a snotty mess as possible with them while he calmed down for the benefit of the men. They stood staring at him the entire time, looking stricken.

Finally he asked, _"Hvor er Bård? Bård?"_

Martin muttered, "What's he saying?"

"I think Bort. You mean Bort?"

"What's a Bort?"

Li shook his head. "The other one is called Bort. This one's his brother. Bort said they're entertainers. Are you a musician? Music?"

 _"Ja, musikk."_ Vegard sniffled and mimed playing piano and then pointed to himself, trying to look pathetic and small. _"Piano. Hvor er Bård?"_

Martin said, "I don't think he knows English."

"I thought everyone in Sweden knows English. Maybe this one is retarded."

Martin sighed. "Take him over to the infirmary and clean that arm up and give him a cookie or something. We'll probably put the other one to work. The satellites won't be in the right position until Thursday; might as well earn their keep. After the operation we can drop them off in Churchill."

"You think the op will go this week?"

"Yeah. Mark is on the way."

Li shook his head, "About fucking time. Can't we just shoot them?" He smiled at Vegard and said, "Should we just shoot you?"

Vegard looked back at Li earnestly, but felt sick with fear and exhaustion. _"Hvor er Bård?"_ Li's face shimmered in front of him. Vegard felt a bit like passing out. Falling asleep right now was a tantalizing and delicious prospect.

Distantly, he heard Martin say, "Don't be an asshole; he's scared shitless already. Anyway, our entire purpose is to free poor bastards like him from the chains of the modern world."

"I suppose. Maybe not so poor. Wearing an expensive coat."

"Those Swedes are socialists. They all get subsidies for those high end coats from the government because they live in such a frozen shithole."

"Yeah, we all know about frozen shitholes up here." Li bent down to look at Vegard and said loudly, "You live in a frozen shithole full of IKEA furniture, don't you, buddy?"

Vegard looked between the two men. _"Jeg ønsker å se Bård."_

Martin added, "…IKEA and Legos."

Li rolled his eyes. "Legos are Danish, dipshit." He motioned for Vegard to stand up and said with a kind voice, "There you go now, buddy. Follow me, don't be scared, you pathetic little bastard."

"Cut it out. He's still scared."

"He's not a fucking puppy, Jesus H."

"You're an asshole."

They led Vegard through a maze of corridors. He was shocked how big the underground complex really was. This group was definitely not the Canadian military, but they seemed organized enough. They didn't pass anyone in the halls and there was no sign of Bård. He considered what they'd said. They'd drop them off after an operation on Thursday? Today should be Saturday. That was at least five days longer for their family to be convinced they were dead.

They were climbing a flight of stairs when Vegard stumbled. He reached out his hand to catch himself as a rushing sound filled his ears…

…and then he woke up on a bed in what looked like an infirmary. He was under a sheet and he was wearing only his boxer briefs. That was weird. But he supposed he wouldn't find out why unless Li volunteered the information. Vegard had an I.V. hooked up to his good arm and Li was cleaning his injured one. Li glanced up at him and said, "Well, you decided to wake up. Just hold still, I'm still cleaning shit out of this bulletwound. I already stitched up your head."

Vegard looked around. He didn't see Martin anywhere. He realized his right hand was handcuffed to the bed. That was scary. He pulled at it and looked at Li with fear.

Li sighed, "Don't worry. Mike went to check on your brother. I gave you something for the pain; it should be making you nice and sleepy. Go back to sleep." He frowned at Vegard. "Sleep? Schlafen? Sueño? Sommeil?" He rolled his eyes and looked back down at Vegard's wounded arm. "Fucking dumbshit. My talents are so wasted here."

  
Vegard was frightened but he didn't know if he could work up another cry. He felt utterly enervated. Maybe it would be easier to act broken and terrified. That would be less work. "Hvor er Bård?"

  
Li shook his head. "Look, dude, hold still, I have to get this crap out of your arm or it will go all funky." He poked at the wound with a pair of tweezers. Vegard hadn't realized the bullet had dragged fragments of his clothing through the wound, and watching Li pull a long flannel shirt scrap out of his arm made him vomit again. After that Vegard decided to just lie very still.

Li re-bandaged the wound, all the while telling Vegard not to be scared as if he were a small child. Which suited Vegard just fine.

Afterwards Li unhooked the I.V. and gave him an army green Tshirt and sweat pants, explaining loudly, "Your clothes are all fucked up and bloody." Then he brought him some cookies and a bottle of apple juice, and afterwards carefully led him to a nearby room with a bunkbed, a chair and nothing else. Li handcuffed his right wrist to the metal of the lower bunk's headboard and left him there after miming that he should sleep.

Vegard felt groggy but was too worried about Bård to sleep. An indeterminate time later, Martin and Weber brought Bård back into the room. Bård's hands were still cuffed behind him and he was in bare feet, wearing only his black T-shirt and jeans. He was also sporting a split and bloodied lower lip, a fresh bruise near his left eye and bruises around his neck. Weber said, "Stay in here for now. Look after your brother; Li said he lost a lot of blood and passed out."

Martin unlocked Bård's handcuffs and turned to free Vegard as well. He added, "He got a lot of Demerol for the pain and had a few stitches on his head. He'll probably just sleep. Listen, we're gonna go have a meeting now about you two, but I think everything is going to be okay. I'm really sorry about all of this." He added, "Just knock loudly on the door if you need anything. We'll be right down the hall."

As the door closed and locked behind him Bård rubbed his wrists and said in Norwegian, "And the situation continues to go to hell." He settled down onto the lower bunk next to where Vegard was lying. He did a double take after glancing at him. "Jesus, Vegard, what the hell did they do to you?"

"Nothing. They took care of my arm. I'm probably all puffy from crying like a little girl."

"Have you been crying this entire time?"

"You said to turn it up."

 _"Jesus Christ._ And you passed out?"

"Yeah, I think I might have hit my head again."

Bård frowned at him. "You've got a cut on your forehead."

"Do I?" Vegard felt his face. "That's weird."

"Are you going to die, Vegard?"

"I don't think so. Just feeling dizzy. Don't punch me again."

"Don't die and I won't."

Vegard smiled. "That sounds fair." He inspected Bård's face. The bruise was swelling and there was a spot of blood on the white of Bård's eye. It looked frightening next the grey-blue of his iris. Bård pulled away and resolutely studied his own hands. Vegard asked, "What happened? You were gone for a long time."

Bård gingerly touched his own lip, frowning at the blood that came away. He said, "They searched me and found the jump drive and the note. They got a little pissed off about it."

"What jump drive?"

"It was in with that GPS thing Jack Ryan stuck on you."

"And you kept it?"

Bard said defensively, "I thought it might have something incriminating on it, if they pressed charges against us for murder."

It hadn't occurred to Vegard that Bård would share in a murder charge. He asked, "What was on the flash drive?"

"I don't know. But they seemed to recognize the note. They were briefly convinced we were spies."

Vegard motioned angrily to Bård's injured face and neck. "And what is all this?"

Bård glanced at him again. "It's nothing."

Vegard gently touched Bård's swollen jaw and inspected his face more carefully. "What happened?"

Bård pulled away. "Nothing."

Vegard sighed and rubbed Bård's arm. "It's me. Tell me." When Bård didn't respond he added, "I'm on so much pain medication I probably won't remember even if you tell me. Who was it?"

Bård let out a breath and looked back at Vegard. "Don't be alone with the big Greek. He's angry that Jack Ryan is dead."

Vegard frowned at him. "What did he do?"

"He lost his temper. It's fine, I'm okay." Bård sighed and asked, "And what happened to you? Other than all the pathetic blubbering and fainting?"

"They bandaged my arm. And gave me an i.v. and cookies and apple juice."

Bård laughed mirthlessly. "Of course they did. And, as usual, they think you're the younger one."

Vegard nodded. Because he was shorter and looked less intimidating, people always assumed he was the younger of the two. "They think I speak only Norwegian… or… Swedish. I think they think we're Swedish."

"I doubt they know the difference."

"They think I'm mentally retarded."

"Ah." Bård smiled for the first time. "They're more perceptive than I thought." He pressed the back of his hand to his split lip. "Fuck, this hurts."

Vegard said, "I don't understand how they could possibly recognize that note. The odds would be a billion to one that they'd know that man."

"The truck that picked us up found us because of the orange egg GPS gadget."

"Ah." Vegard thought a moment, and decided it would be better not to admonish Bård about the egg. At least they were still alive, for now. Without a pickup they might have just frozen to death or been mauled by a bear. He sighed and said, "What about calling our family?"

"They told me some story about this being a secret installation and they couldn't make phone calls or get on the internet until later this week. I saw one of the guys with a smartphone, so I know it's bullshit."

Vegard nodded and then offered, "It seems we'll have to stay here at least until Thursday."

Bård groaned. " _Oh my god._ Everyone at home will be frantic."

Vegard shook his head. "I don't like to think about it. I think these people might be terrorists, Bård. One of them said their objective was quote: "freeing humanity from the chains of modern life."

"That sounds bad. Anarchists?"

"I don't know. But they decided not to shoot us for now. Mentioned dropping us off in a place called Churchill. Have you heard of it?"

"No."

"I vaguely remember that there might be a small airport there, but I didn't spend much time looking at maps of Northern Canada." Vegard reached out to rub Bård's forearm again. "I'm sorry I wasn't more thorough."

"Yeah, it's fine, Vegard. You don't have to know everything." They sat with each other quietly for a while, Vegard resting his hand on Bård's arm, feeling reassured they were both alive. Eventually Bård said, "I guess we should sleep. I'll take the top bunk since you're all full of bullet holes and lost all your blood and are doped up with narcotics."

"Thanks. Don't fall off and injure your face any more." Vegard shook his head, feeling his anger well up again over Bård's injuries. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Bård glanced at him. "Vegard, it's fine. I'm fine. It was just a misunderstanding. Don't worry about it."

Vegard looked at him speculatively. Maybe Bård didn't want to talk about getting beaten up any more than he wanted to talk about exploding faces. So he smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way and said, "Just be careful. You have enough trouble being born so terribly ugly."

Bård grinned and then winced, putting a hand to his injured jaw. He said, in an American Southern accent, _"It is mah cross to bear."_


	5. The Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers have to stay in character to survive in the outpost and begin to suspect something sinister is going on...

The following day Martin woke them up saying the men had discussed their situation and had accepted their story.  He brought them socks, fresh T-shirts and fatigues, and apologized that he would have to keep their boots for the time being.  Then he gave them breakfast and put them to work cleaning the various common rooms, admonishing Vegard to "take it easy" and to not use his left arm.  So Vegard dusted a bit and Bård mopped and moved furniture.  Bård managed to act cheerful and a bit stupid for Martin's benefit, although Vegard knew Bård probably hated the work. 

Vegard still felt terribly weak, so he spent most of the day sitting down or lying on tables and watching the other two men work.  That meant there was no distraction to keep him from thinking about having murdered The Man.  What had been on that note?  Perhaps The Man really had been from the CIA and had taken the jump drive from these "soldiers", and maybe they didn't know he'd had it.  Or perhaps the men at the station were actually the good guys and The Man had been one of them.  Or maybe the soldiers and The Man were all terrorists.  Regardless, Vegard agonized over the possibility that The Man was just doing his job.  And that he had perhaps had a wife and small children at home.  The thought made Vegard's heart ache terribly to see his own family.

At one point they were walking down a hallway with Martin in the lead.  Hallas came towards them and Vegard saw, or felt, Bård tense up tremendously when he approached.  And Hallas's meaty hands looked big enough to have caused the bruises Bård was wearing around his neck.  The thought made Vegard furious.  When Hallas passed Martin he looked directly at Bård and pointed his finger at Vegard, miming firing a gun and mouthed, "Pow. Dead."  In response Bård worked his jaw, but he said nothing and didn't look at his brother.  Maybe Bård was hoping Vegard hadn't seen.  Vegard supposed they were grown men now and Bård could look out for himself.   He should let him handle this the way he wanted.  But old habits died hard.  After thirty-odd years he still felt deep down that it was his responsibility to keep his little brother safe.

That evening they'd been back in their room playing card games with a deck Martin had given them, Vegard lying on the lower bunk and Bård sitting beside him in a chair.   They talked mostly about their families and their anxiety for them.   Vegard asked Bård again about Hallas and what had happened the first night.

Bård sighed and drew a card.  "Evidently Jack Ryan was his buddy or...  maybe his cousin, I don't know.  He was just a _little bit cross_ about him being dead.  It was lucky for me the other men came in when he lost his temper." 

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."  Vegard studied his brother.  Bård was better at asking for help than Vegard ever would be.  So Bård's reticence about Hallas worried Vegard tremendously; he feared something really terrible had happened.  But he decided not to press Bård about it yet.  Instead he decided to think about how to defend against Hallas if and when he came for them. 

After another hand of cards Vegard worried aloud that people might think their disappearance was some sort of hoax and Bård had laughed.  "Worry about getting away from these maniacs and then we'll deal with public relations."

"It will seem like a grotesque publicity stunt; a waste of time and money for everyone who might look for us."

Bård shook his head.  "You can show everyone your sexy bullet scars.  And there will be a wrecked plane with a dead man in it.  People know we wouldn't murder someone just for publicity."

Vegard frowned down at his cards and stopped talking. 

Bård sighed and finally said, "It's your turn.  Take a card."

"Okay."

After playing silently for another thirty minutes, Vegard announced he needed the bathroom.  He got up and knocked on the door and, hearing no response, tried the knob.  The door opened easily.  He glanced back at Bård.  "What is this?"

Bård took a swig from a bottle or water.  "Maybe it's a test.  But honestly, where would we go?  The toilet is on the left."

 

* * *

 

Martin let them sleep in the next day and Vegard woke up feeling much better than before.  His arm and head still hurt but he could think more clearly and he didn't get dizzy when he stood up.  When they did finally leave their room the brothers concentrated on learning the layout of the installation.  It went down at least two more floors and in addition to the small mess there was a recreation room with a monitor and Xbox, several sofas, a ping-pong table and an ancient upright piano.  There was an exercise room with weights, a treadmill, a punching bag, and a hot shower.  There was a vast amount of storage space and there were sufficient rations and water to last the soldiers a long time.  They also noticed a second hatchway to the surface nearer to the control center, as well as a large freight elevator that presumably led to the surface.  It was apparently out of commission.  There appeared to be quarters for at least two-dozen people although they never saw more than the four men they'd already met.  There was one closed door that apparently led to an operations room or rooms.   They didn't come across an armory, utilities or communications area.  

That evening Martin brought them to the recreation room and asked them to prove their hijacked cabaret musician story by performing for him, Li and Weber.  Hallas was conspicuously absent.  Vegard's left hand was still in enough pain that he couldn't play with any finesse, which was fine because the piano was terribly out of tune and he was supposed to be mentally disabled.  Bård told the men a terribly sad and detailed story about his little brother Vegard, who had been a musical prodigy at age six.  Alas Vegard had a terrible fever when he was only eight years old and had been mentally slow ever since.  Bård also went into great detail about the other consequences of Vegard's fever, such as his testicular shrinkage, compulsive masturbation and bedwetting, glancing at Vegard sadly and giving him brotherly hugs throughout.  Vegard was of course forced to look blankly happy during the entire narrative, which only spurred his brother on.  Bård finished by telling how poor Vegard never went to normal school to learn English properly, although Vegard made the men laugh by reciting a list of incredibly vulgar and poorly pronounced English words and phrases and giggling contagiously.  The men decided Vegard was some sort of an idiot savant and applauded Bård's singing.  In the end the brothers managed to entertain the men with enough flair and talent to convince them they were authentic performers. 

When they finally returned to their quarters Bård and Vegard sat next to each other on the lower bunk bed silently for a long while.  Then they didn't talk about the bizarre performance; they agreed that the entire situation was too surreal to analyze.   They did argue about what they would do if they had a chance at a phone or internet connection.   Most of the argument centered on whether the emergency number in Canada was 112, 999 or 911.  They decided they'd just have to try all three if they got the chance.

On Monday afternoon they were briefly separated again doing work on different floors. Martin stayed with Vegard (Bård felt fairly sure Martin wanted to adopt his brother), and Bård went off with Li.  Bård returned to their room with a fresh bruise on his arm and a limp.  Evidently Hallas had caught him alone but Li had separated them before Bård was seriously hurt.  More than ever Vegard wanted to get away.  Hallas would eventually get his chance to kill them both.  They had an ally in Martin and he did everything he could to ingratiate himself with him.

That night when they'd turned off the lights to go to sleep Vegard had stared up at the bunk above him for a long time.  Finally, he worked up the courage to ask, "Bård?"

"What is it?"

"About Hallas."

"I don't want to talk about him."

"He threatened me, didn't he?  Is that why you're not fighting back?"

There was a long silence.  Finally Bård said, "Who says I'm not fighting back?"

Vegard chewed on his lip, silently staring into the darkness above until he heard Bård gently snoring.  Allowing Hallas to attack Bård even once more was not an acceptable option.  Somehow he had to get Bård and himself some weapons or they had to escape. 

  

* * *

 

An opportunity to call for help came on Wednesday when they were invited into the restricted area to clean, as evidently the soldiers were expecting the arrival of someone important.  Martin came to get them and promised Hallas had left the outpost to pick up the guest.  But being short one man they needed extra help to get ready for inspection. The floors and surfaces were all filthy with coffee stains and old food, and neither of the brothers felt particularly overjoyed to do more janitorial work. 

Under Martin's supervision they first cleared an administrative area where Bård spotted a document that seemed to describe a number of communications satellites.  Vegard ached to pick up a phone on one of the desks but had no chance to do so.  Then they went to a utilities area and saw some electrical breakers for the complex.  Then they worked briefly in a control room with five different computer displays.  Martin steered Bård away from the monitors but Vegard saw one of them had an application running that described a flight sequence for what he thought might be a rocket.  They passed the armory, which was clearly labeled as such, and they finished in a long conference room.  There were food wrappers and trash scattered everywhere.  There didn't appear to be anything informative in the discarded documents.   But under one of the folders Vegard caught sight of an iPad.  When he was able to catch Bård's attention he pointed it out.  Martin had been working alongside them, but was now sitting in a chair, half-watching them, half-reading a smartphone he'd been carrying since they started work that morning.  That meant there was a good chance the outpost had Wi-Fi. 

Bård stood and straightened, stretching his arms and looked at Martin expectantly.

Martin finally looked up.  "What is it?"

"I am sorry to ask but I vould like to use de toilet please?  I was trying to wait but it is becoming an emergency."  It was a reasonable request; they'd been working for several hours.

Martin considered him.  "Sure.  I could use the bathroom myself.  What about Veygore?"

Bård asked Vegard in Norwegian, "Do you have to pee?"

_"Nei."_

 Martin stood up. "Tell him where you're going so he doesn't get agitated; we'll only be gone five minutes."  He looked at his watch.  "And tell him to hurry up in here; we need to get you back to your room soon."

Bård translated, "Hurry up in here while we are gone.  We will be gone only five minutes." 

"Okay, Bård.  I will work hard to finish in five minutes."

Bård turned back to Martin to translate.  Martin smiled broadly and said, "I think I understood some of that.  The word minute sounds the same in Swedish, right?  Maybe you guys are teaching me something after all."   Vegard smiled back at him stupidly and bobbed his head, turning back to the floor to pick up a napkin and an empty paper cup.

The moment the two were gone Vegard snatched up the iPad and turned it on.  He almost cried with relief when there was no password prompt.  He clicked on the Chrome app, opened an incognito window, logged onto gmail and sent a group message to his and Bård's wives, their parents, their friend Calle and their little brother in Norwegian with the message: _"Help - both alive - kidnapped - Canada Outpost 995 - near Churchill? - militants - tell police only - no media - hurry - ask Bjarte about Christmas 2008 - we love you."_ He hit "send" and when the message indicated "Sent" he closed the window, the browser and turned off the tablet.  He wiped his fingerprints off of the glass and slid it back under the papers where he'd found it.  He rushed to sweep the floor, empty the garbage, clean the white board and reposition all the chairs.  He began moving the uncrumpled papers on the conference table into a single pile and sang _Mikkel Rev_ just loud enough that if Bård came back he'd know it was safe to enter. 

They returned two minutes later finding Vegard cheerily singing and finishing up the job.

Martin said, "Well, he's quick when he wants to be, isn't he?"

Bård nodded, "He is feeling much better.  Ond he is de hard vorker.  He is most happy vhen vorking hard."

"What's he singing?"

"It's a child's song."

Martin turned away from Vegard to face Bård.  Behind him Vegard winked and smiled at his brother.  It took all of Bård's self-control not to react and cheer out loud.  Martin hooked a thumb back at Vegard.  "He's got a nice singing voice too.  Damn shame about him being a retard.  Man like him would've had a wife and kids at this age.  Really a shame.  You got kids, Bort?" 

"Ya, ya.  But they are staying together vit dere mother now."  Bård shrugged. 

"Sorry, to hear that, Bort.   You've had a lot of bad luck."

"Life is a tragedy, but Vegard and I are happy enough to vork wit each other."

"Good to have a brother you get along with.  Well, help him finish up and - whoa there!"  Martin stepped forward and fished the tablet out from under the papers.  "Dammit, Li left this in here again; I've told him a million times…" Martin looked at Vegard suspiciously. "Did you touch this?"

" _I-Pad?_ "  Vegard nodded vigorously and reached for the tablet.  Martin pulled it out of reach. 

Bård hastened to intervene.  "So sorry.  Ve haf de iPad at home.  Vegard likes to play de games." He turned to Vegard and said in Norwegian, "Sorry, Vegard, no _Candy Crush_ for you today."

Vegard put on his best hangdog and pitiful expression.  It never failed.

And it didn't this time.  Martin seemed to buy the story and patted Vegard sympathetically on the shoulder.  "Can't let you have the tablet, Veygore.  Maybe on the way home."

Vegard sighed deeply and looked longingly at the iPad.  Bård finished gathering the papers and Vegard helped him polish the surface of the table. 

Martin seemed pleased with their work.  "You helped me with a big job.  Maybe we can get Veygore some chocolate or some such, eh?  But now let's pick up some food for you and then get back to your room."

Once they were back in the room and alone Vegard let out a great sigh, sitting down on the lower bunk next to his brother.   He said loudly, "Ah, I miss Pappa and Mamma."  Hopefully if Martin was listening in on them he'd understand some of the words and be satisfied.

Bård nodded and took a long drink of bottled water.  "We'll see them soon I hope.  Maybe tomorrow."  He stretched and let out a satisfying groan.  "How's your arm, Mascot?"  Bård had observed the night before that Vegard had become the outpost mascot.  The men seemed to enjoy giving him treats and patting him on the shoulder and head.  Bård thought Vegard's child-like performance had become both more convincing and more hilarious every day.  And Vegard had been encouraging his hair to go more insanely wild each morning; he looked completely demented.

Vegard moved his arm tentatively.  "Still sore."  Li had changed the bandage for him daily and it looked like it was healing.  The wound still hurt like hell but he'd been trying to keep his elbow and thumb mobile by exercising both at night.  "You know, Bård, your accent is getting more like The Swedish Chef every day."

Bård laughed and said, _"Dørsh born, der-gitt der-gue."_

"You should be careful about that."

"Maybe."  Bård added softly, "Someone new is coming here.  You don't suppose we've been on the news?"

Vegard shook his head.  "At home, yes.  But here?  Norway's Fox YouTube singers presumed dead.  End of story."

 Bård shrugged and looked at Vegard speculatively.  He leaned in and said softly, "You know, your child act is a bit less convincing with all that stubble.  You've got half of a beard going."

Vegard rubbed his hand over his face and shrugged.  "You look like angry Thor."

"I always do."  He looked carefully at Vegard. "Will they know it's us?"

 Vegard nodded.  He, Bård and their little brother Bjarte had some secrets between them that no one else knew.  The worst thing any of them could do was to reveal one of the others' secrets.  Bård had done it once a year ago in an unnecessarily public fashion and Vegard had paid him back in spades.  He felt sure none of them would ever break the trust again.  But this was an emergency, and he and Bård had agreed that their little brother would only be convinced of the authenticity of their email home if they referred to one of their secrets.  Hopefully Bjarte would think of some lie to tell instead of what really had happened Christmas 2008.   Vegard smiled at Bård and nodded. "They know it's us.  I'm sure of it."

  

* * *

  

Wednesday evening Martin came to them and invited them to play music again.  When they entered the room Weber and Li were there and seemed pleased to see them.  A new, tall, blond and imposing older man with a military haircut was there as well, eyeing them suspiciously.  He introduced himself as "Colonel Andersen" and indicated they should proceed to play. When Vegard sat down on the bench in front of the creaking piano he had a sudden moment of dread, a premonition of his brother and himself dying on a concrete floor, drowning in their own blood.  He met eyes with Bård and he almost broke into tears.  Bård seemed to realize something was wrong and came over and hugged him in a showy fashion for the benefit of their captors.  He said in Norwegian, "Don't lose your courage." 

Bård turned back to their captors and smiled ingratiatingly, saying, "He is scared, you see.  And he vants to see our mamma."

Martin stood and gave Vegard a pat on the back, saying slowly and loudly, "Veygore, hey, bro, don't be scared.  No one will hurt you.  You'll go home soon.  We want to hear your pretty music, okay?"

Bård translated rapidly and Vegard nodded forlornly.  Bård thought it was a shame the whole thing wasn't being recorded; he thought Vegard deserved an award for being the best actor.  Ever.  Of all time.

Vegard sniffled loudly and then turned around and played a one-and-a-half-handed version of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata with heartbreaking emotion on the terrible piano.  Then Bård played and Vegard sang a Norwegian lullaby about a dying horse that had Martin in tears.   Bård sang some standards and after about twenty minutes Martin said, "Alrighty, I think that's good for tonight.  Thank you."  Martin walked the two of them into the hall and said, "Veygore, you have got some voice on you.  That was really nice. Bort, maybe you can take your little brother here for a snack to cheer him up.  You know the way to the mess?"

"Ya, I know de vay by heart."  Bård looked down the hall nervously.  "Pardon me, but do you know vere Mr. Hallas is now?"

"He's on duty.  He won't bother you tonight unless he wants Andersen on his ass.  But lock your door when you get back to your room anyway.  Can't hurt to be careful."

 "Thank you for de advice."

Martin nodded, patted Vegard on the shoulder and went back into the rec room, closing the door behind him.  Bård and Vegard stared at each other with disbelief.  Then they turned as one and headed directly for the armory.


	6. Locked and Loaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers have finally armed themselves, but the situation is worse than they'd ever imagined.

Bård cautiously opened the door of the armory. He was almost insulted the door wasn't locked and said so.

Vegard said quietly, "If they think we're harmless we should be happy, although I think they're just not very security conscious soldiers."

"I think they're just not actual soldiers."

"That too."

They walked into the armory without challenge.   Vegard felt a surge of sudden confidence; he knew about ordnance.  He began looking over the crates and lockers.   There were enough weapons and firepower to withstand a siege, but the weapons were mismatched, out-of-date and hopelessly disorganized.  Not a uniform, well-kept inventory as a real military armory would have. Many weapons looked as if they hadn't been properly maintained.  He said, "Pick up that rifle bag; we're taking some of this back to our room."

"We should find our coats and boots and get the hell out."

"I sent that message only four hours ago.  It was almost midnight Oslo time.  They might not even have been awake.  Even if they got in touch with the right people it will take longer than that for help to come. We need to be ready when the cavalry arrives. Or if Hallas decides to come after us." He grabbed an assortment of grenades from the back of a rack where he hoped no one would notice them missing. Then he picked up two rifles. "I'm used to an AG-3; I don't see one.  Oh, I think this is a C7; Norwegian special forces use guns like these. This one is pretty beaten up… …and I think this other is an M16. We fired one of these at that range last year in Portland, do you remember?  Or maybe that one was an M4." 

"They look the same."  Bård picked up a Smith and Wesson pistol and examined it curiously. 

"The M4 is a carbine."  Vegard suddenly gasped, " _Oh my god_ , an Uzi.  Those are so cool."

Bård picked it up the Uzi briefly and set it back down. He looked over the other weapons. "I don't see any shotguns. I'm pretty good with those." He picked up an M16.

Vegard stopped ogling the Uzi and thought for a moment. He knew Bård would insist on having something more than just a pistol but without enough experience a rifle might prove too unwieldy in close quarters for him, and he'd be uselessly inaccurate if he were panicked or moving.   But they were probably better off with him having one than not. And they might not even need to use the weapons.  He looked over the pistols.  "Here." Vegard grabbed a Glock and unlocked it. "Take this too; it might be more useful.  Good gun. But it has the safety right on the trigger.  Don't ever aim it at me or at yourself for even a second with your finger on the trigger."

" _Jesus_ , I know about fucking gun safety, Vegard."

Vegard continued lecturing as if he hadn't heard him. "It doesn't have bad recoil, but still be careful, don't let it hit you in your Angry Thor face." He grabbed several magazines worth of ammunition and shoved it at Bård.  "I'll show you how to reload it in our room."

"Can you even shoot a rifle with your fucked up hand?"

"Yeah.  But reloading might be a little tricky.  Get that bag, let's hurry.  That new guy worries me.  Andersen.  Think he's Scandinavian?" 

"Don't know.  Better not take any chances."

Vegard looked longingly at the Uzi but knew he needed a well-maintained weapon with which he was familiar.  He decided on a second M16 and grabbed ammunition. He also grabbed a second Glock, loaded it, and put it down the back of his fatigues.

"Why are you doing that?"

"If any of them catch us with this stuff on the way back I'll have to use it.  Get two vests and let's get out of here."

 _"Fucking hell."_   They packed their haul into a rifle bag and Bård peered out the door. "All clear."

They walked briskly back to their room and stashed the bag behind the bunk.  Vegard spent an hour going over the pistol's mechanics with Bård and then the rifle, and grenades. It was a shame they couldn't take some practice shots but he and Bård had hunted and gone to shooting ranges in the past so he knew Bård could at least fire the thing and not shoot himself. It would have to do. In the close quarters they'd be lucky not to get killed by their own ricochets.  He said as much.

Bård leaned back on the bunk.  "You know, this last week has been utterly absurd. Maybe it's a sign we need to choose a new direction in our absurd lives."

Vegard rolled his eyes.  " _Nei_ , it's a sign that the world is fucking crazy.  The sad thing is that _we_ are the sane ones."

"So say the men in the fox costumes."

Vegard nodded proudly.  "So say we of the silver jumpsuits."

Bård snorted. "No one will ever believe us about any of this.  I'm me and I wouldn't believe me.  Maybe we should make up a more plausible story if we live through this.  Something like: we were turned into pigs by an evil witch."

"If we live?"  Vegard shook his head with annoyance. "There's still a chance Martin will just take us to town tomorrow and we'll be home by Saturday."

"Look who's finally gotten back his optimism."

Vegard shrugged. 

Bård said, "You were getting all teary in there again. It wasn't an act this time, was it?" 

Vegard pressed his palms together and bowed his head. " _Gomen nasai._   I have brought shame upon our clan.  I will commit hara-kiri at earliest opportunity."

"It's okay. I almost lost it a few times. Of course I didn't actually lose it."

Vegard looked into Bård's light blue eyes and then frowned angrily at the darkened purple bruises Bård was still sporting from his interrogation.   Vegard felt embarrassed for having had a moment of weakness even though he knew Bård didn't hold it against him.  Regardless, the older brother was supposed to be the tough one.  "Bård, you are one _badass_ _motherfucker_."

Bård smirked.  "Maybe someday you'll be as cool as me."

"Unlikely."  Vegard sighed.  "Tomorrow's the big, final day.  I hope…" He swallowed heavily. 

Bård clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Can not wait!" He pulled off his fatigues, turned off the light and climbed up onto the top bunk. 

Vegard lay in bed for a long while, unable to sleep, thinking about The Man's mangled face and Hallas pretending to shoot them in the hall.  His premonition in front of the piano had solidified into a solid lump in his stomach. He was sure things would be bad tomorrow.  He wondered if he had the balls to kill Martin or the other men considering he had gotten so overwrought about killing The Man.  Maybe after the first one, killing more people wouldn't be so difficult. He had to be ready to do it if he wanted to see his family again, and he knew he'd have to do it if Hallas came after Bård.  So he imagined himself pulling the rifle's trigger over and over until he finally sank into a nightmare-laden sleep.

  

* * *

 

The next morning Martin woke them holding a pile of towels and fresh sets of fatigues and asked Bård _politely_ if they would help with breakfast and lunch service.    "But first you should shower and get ready. Tonight we'll be leaving."

"Oh, vonderful news, you see, to vash, because Vegard here is become filled vit de terrible odor and vas up all night scratching himself." 

Martin smiled, handed Bård a comb.  "I also thought you might need this. Let's try to get his hair under control."  He winked at Vegard. 

Vegard managed to keep from reacting until Bård "translated" for him but then made quite a show of being excited to go home.  Martin seemed pleased by his reaction and patted his head. Vegard determined on the spot that if or when he got home he would make a large donation to a charity for the mentally disabled.  He thought he was reasonably immune to embarrassment, but it was humiliating and infuriating to be treated so patronizingly. 

Shortly thereafter, as he stood in the shower washing his hair, Vegard realized that although he found Martin's affection offensive, he found Bård's sideways insults very comforting.  For all his blustering, Bård was better at keeping his sense of humor under stress.  As long as Bård could work up a few good-natured taunts things couldn't be that bad. Human psychology was really interesting.

After the brothers were dressed, Martin sat down to watch Bård comb Vegard's hair, and that was a complete disaster.  Vegard didn't need to act; he couldn't help whining and letting out little barks of pain everytime Bård yanked on a new part of his hair. Thankfully Martin left to check on something and Vegard wrenched the comb away from Bård. " _Jesus Christ,_ you'll make me bald."  He started working out the week's worth of snarls.

"I comb the kids' hair just fine. You have devil hair."

"What's left of it!"

Vegard managed to finish before Martin returned and they went with him to help with breakfast, which was a more complicated affair than usual, presumably due to Andersen's presence.  After they finished cleaning up Martin gave them their bag with most of their belongings in it and told them they'd all be leaving at around 2100.  He left with the promise to return at lunchtime.

Vegard reached for his boots and put them on with a sigh of relief.  He had gotten sick and tired of sliding around on the floor in his socks.

Bård was pleased to see the GoPro again. He turned the camera on his brother and said, "Well, now do you have anything to say?"

Vegard abruptly sobered and looked into the camera. "Yeah." He thought a moment and then began,  "We love you, Mamma, Pappa. I love you- "

Bård put the camera down.  "What in the fucking hell are you doing?"

Vegard's response was cut off by Martin knocking once and barging into the room.  He said, "Veygore, come with me.  I need your help." He held out his hand to Vegard.

Bård hesitated and then haltingly translated. Vegard nodded and then left with Martin holding his hand.  There was no doubt that Martin wanted to adopt Vegard and that made Bård feel unreasonably possessive.  Even _he_ hadn't held hands with Vegard like that in at least twenty-five years.   Now he wanted desperately to punch Martin in his stupid freckled face.  As Vegard passed through the doorway he looked back at Bård and said softly, "Finish the recording."

After the door closed completely, Bård swallowed deeply and turned the camera lens towards himself.  He thought a moment and started, "We love you, Mamma, Pappa..." 

 

After he was finished, Bård sat looking at the camera for a long time.  Then he picked it up again and said, "I have to add something.  I don't know what the news reports will say or what the investigation will show, but Vegard saved my life at least twice since all this started. That man who hijacked us was going to kill us.  And Vegard kept us safe and he has done everything he can just to keep us alive. He misses the family very much and I know he'll do whatever he can to get home.  But if we don't come home, you should know he's been incredibly… tough and brave and I am… was… am… lucky to have him as my brother." He powered down the camera and stuck it in his bag, muttering to himself, "Do not forget to destroy the memory card if we survive this."

He waited for Vegard to return, and each moment that passed was more worrisome than before.  He didn't like that they'd taken him off by himself.  Maybe Andersen spoke or understood Norwegian. Was he questioning or assaulting Vegard now as Hallas had done to him?  The idea made Bård feel sick.  Despite Vegard's gentle demeanor, in the short run he was tougher than Bård would ever be.  Moment to moment he could endure things that would have had Bård screaming in a matter of seconds. But, in the long run, bad incidents hung over Vegard's head long after Bård had forgotten completely about them. He was already fucked up about Jack Ryan. If Hallas attacked Vegard he'd probably get PTSD or something.  And for all his flexibility and strength, Vegard wasn't exactly a shining specimen of human athleticism. Bård had to restrain himself from running out of the door to look for his brother.

Forty minutes later Vegard suddenly reappeared holding a candy bar with chocolate all over his face, smiling and nodding. Bård had been so anxious he wanted to simultaneously hug and punch him.  Again.  After Martin left with the promise to return shortly for lunch Vegard furiously wiped off his face and threw down the candy.  He sat on the lower bunk next to Bård and buried his face in his hands.

Bård hesitantly asked, " _Oh my god,_ what happened?"

Vegard didn't look up.  "They spilled a pot of coffee in the room with all the monitors and wanted me to clean it up.  Then I had to wait until Martin was free to bring me back."

"Yes?"

"They were talking about us and what is happening tonight."

Bård moved to sit beside him.  "And?"

"Well, first, I heard Hallas talking to Li, saying they should just shoot us in the heads and leave us here tonight. Li said Martin wouldn't allow it, and then Hallas said he might be persuaded to let Martin keep me, but you had to go because you've seen too much."

Bård blew out a breath.  "So much for _reaching out with the universal language of music_.  Hallas is a psychopath.  And what does that mean, 'keep you'?"

Vegard shrugged.

Bård asked,  "Why didn't Hallas just come and shoot us this morning?"

"I guess he thought Martin would be angry. Martin must be a superior, or maybe he knows something the others don't."

Bård frowned.  "They didn't beat you at all, did they?" 

Vegard looked up, surprised.  "No? Did you think they were beating me up?"

"Only I get to beat you up." 

Vegard shook his head. "You might not have the chance.  They actually do want to destroy the world."

"I don't understand."

"They actually have a plan to cause chaos all over the first and second world."

"That can't be right.  These morons?"

Vegard pointed upwards  "That satellite dish outside?  It's a transmitter and that fucking jump drive had a worm, you know, a computer virus.  A program that shuts down the ability of some satellites to relay information properly.  Something to do with a weakness in some spy satellite the US put up or something, I'm not sure. But it's why they had to wait for a particular time tonight.  For all the right satellites to be in perfect range of one another."

"I still don't understand." 

"They are going to start taking down satellites tonight, Bård:  phone, internet, mapping, defense, banking, everything, one after another.  They aren't breaking into the encrypted data; they're just turning off the connection home. It only should take a day or so and the whole world is paralyzed."

"That can't be possible."

"They're setting off a rocket or a bomb as a distraction, or something, I didn't quite get that."

"A rocket?!"

"And they are supposed to leave tonight because they expect this outpost to be bombed when the military figures it out. That's what Hallas said. He said they should shoot both of us and leave the bodies here; the evidence would be destroyed or we'd be framed for the job."  Vegard pushed his hands through his hair and stared at the wall opposite the bed. "What are we going to do?" 

Bård took a moment to digest what Vegard had said.   Finally he asked, "Are they truly anarchists then?"

"Maybe eco-terrorists.  We have to do something, Bård; this is insane. Even if we didn't care about the rest of the world, we wouldn't get home for a long, long time. If this happens; the planes will all be grounded until the systems are restored, even the ships at sea will be screwed up for a while.   God, I can't bear to think of what would happen at home if there were to be rioting."

"Hold on. The world worked fine in the days before there were satellites.  It wouldn't be such a disaster."

"But think about all the people that were born in the last thirty years.  If all the phones and banks and GPS and wireless internet suddenly went down, people would panic.  You only need a small number of people rioting to disrupt everything."

"That wouldn't happen.  The military has landlines.  They could use Morse code if they had to.  You're panicking for no reason."

"Think, Bård.  All the high-speed communications and GPS goes down, even the military ones.  Suddenly New York City gets bombed. What happens next? It only takes one person high-up in a government to panic and hit a big red button and it's all over."

Bård pondered the implications.  "Are you sure they weren't just fucking with you?"

Vegard abruptly turned to glare at his brother. Bård held up his hands. "Okay, okay. But surely you need more than five guys to shoot off a missile."

"You only need two, I think.  Right?  Two people have to agree to fire off a nuclear missile?" Vegard buried his face again. " _Jesus Christ_ , I feel sick." 

"We can figure this out, okay? We have the element of surprise. And we're armed." Bård frowned, the possibility of actual life-threatening combat acutely sliding home.  There was no way out of it now; Hallas was definitely coming to kill him.  He looked at his recently retrieved watch.  "It's only about 1100.  We have a lot of time.  Come on. We're smart; we can solve this. You did that Home Guard training, you know about this sort of thing.  Guerilla tactics."

Vegard pushed his hands through his dark hair and sat up.  "I suppose. We'll figure this out. I don't know that we have time."

"If they haven't shot us yet because of Martin they won't do it until after they do their computer thing and are ready to leave.  It only takes a few seconds to shoot two people."

Vegard shuddered and grabbed Bård's forearm. "It will take more than two seconds.  They don't know we're armed and we're onto them."

"Right."

They both sat silently for several minutes, Vegard absent-mindedly rubbing Bård's forearm while he thought. Bård didn't stop him. Finally Vegard said, "We can't easily overpower or outshoot those five men.  We don't know where the rocket is.  We don't have the firepower to blow up the outpost. We have to target something small but crucial."

"Like what?"

"To run the rocket and virus you need computers. For computers you need power. Power goes through wires and circuits."

"Won't their laptops have batteries?"

"Maybe.  But if they've got a rocket or missile hidden down here somewhere, it probably needs power to trigger the ignition.  Or that satellite dish to guide it."

"So find a way to turn off the power?"

"Or disconnect it from its source or target. This place must run off an independent generator."

Bård nodded.  "That seems like something we could actually do."

"Okay, we are going back out after lunch. We'll try to figure out where this missile is.  Or where the power is that drives it and/or the dish transmitter. "

"The power source might be outside."

"Yeah.   But this outpost has at least three floors; there might be a tunnel or something leading to a missile or even another exit.  I'd think a rocket or missile big enough to blow up a city would be tough to hide outside."

Bård thought a moment and then asked, "What about that satellite dish?  Could we blow it up with grenades?"

"Those are antipersonnel and smoke grenades. They're made to kill and confuse people, not destroy something like that dish."

"Can we just throw grenades at the men?"

"We could, but we'd have to be sure to get all of them immediately.   It might only take one mouse click to fire a rocket or upload the virus."

"Okay.  Okay.  If we can't get to the power source, can we just shoot the computers?"

"We won't have a chance to figure out what controls what."  Vegard let out a breath.  " _Oi_.  This is so bad."

Bård suggested, "We could shoot _all_ of the computers."

Vegard shook his head with worry.  "We'd still have to get past the men to do that. Even if we had the luxury of time… we two against five armed men?  The odds are against us." 

Bård chewed his lip and finally said, "What about that utilities room?  I saw some circuit breakers in there.  It might be as simple as turning off the electricity to the control room or the dish at the right moment."

"Right, right."

Bård nodded.  "I'll look for the power cables or controls, you look for the missile. You're marginally better at sneaking around."

"Am I?"

"Yes.  I think it's because you're so little and dark."

Vegard shook his head with the ghost of a smile but continued, "If you get caught say you are looking for me and I wandered off. I'll try to look…   confused."

Bård smiled but didn't take the bait. "Sounds good."

"And we're both going out armed with at least the pistols."

"Okay."

"And keep an eye out for the doors and how the locks are facing on them; maybe we can lure them somewhere and just lock them in a room.  I'd rather not anyone else get killed."

Bård cocked his head at his brother with disbelief. "Vegard.  Those men are going to kill us, or at least me. I shudder to think what Martin wants with a grown man with the mind of a child.  He probably wants to take you home and keep you chained up in his basement."

Vegard grimaced.  "I know.  But one murder was enough to last me a lifetime."

"You didn't murder Jack Ryan."

Vegard hesitated and met Bård's eyes. "Yes, I did. I slapped his gun away and it blew off his face."

"He was the one who pulled the trigger."

"But if it weren't for me…"

"Not just you.  We were both there.  We pulled a Lukas, remember?"

Vegard frowned.  "No, Bård, it was just me.  There's no reason for you to take any blame."

Bård let out a long breath and reached out to gently grab the back of Vegard's neck.  He pulled him forward until their foreheads were touching. He said softly, "We were there together."

Vegard searched his eyes.  "I'm not going to let you-"

Bård whispered fiercely, "We're in this together. And these guys, Vegard, they are _the bad guys_.  They're the enemy.  You're a soldier.  It's your job to kill them if you have to."

"Of course, I know that."

"Regardless, when we get out of this, you aren't throwing yourself on the fire for me this time.  Not this time.  Okay?"

Vegard blinked at him and finally sighed, reaching up to hold the back of Bård's neck.  "Okay."

"Okay."

They separated and Vegard said, "Well, put on your boots.  We've got a job to do."

" _Let's fuck this shit up, my brother."_

Vegard gave an unenthusiastic thumbs up. " _Booyah."_

 

* * * 

 

Lunch came and went, and then Martin reminded the brothers they'd be leaving that night and to not leave their room. So shortly thereafter they left their room and split up as planned, both armed with loaded pistols. 

Bård retraced his steps to the armory and past it into the utilities area.  To do so he had to pass the command center and he could see through the windows on the double door that all five men were inside, seemingly busy, staring at their computers.  He didn't think they were sufficiently packed in that they could kill them all with two grenades. One really.  Vegard was so hopelessly inaccurate at throwing it would be completely up to Bård.  He didn't see a deadbolt on the outside of the double door, and he couldn't see a way of barring the door.  When he got to the utilities area the power breaker was labeled with the main areas they'd explored.  But there was nothing concerning the control center and nothing about any rocket. 

He slipped back into the armory and looked carefully at the weapons scattered around on display.  He realized most of the dozen or so boxes against the wall also contained weapons or ammunition and most were labeled with scrawled black marker. He opened the top of one marked "M16" and found it housed more of the rifles Vegard had chosen for them before. The labels on the other boxes were limited to abbreviations and numbers.  He cursed himself for not paying better attention when Vegard described these things in excruciating detail after coming back from his first round in the military. Bård had assumed, as any sane person would, that he'd never be in a situation like this.  After looking in most of the boxes he finally spotted what he was looking for.  He grabbed the items and managed to slip back into their room.  When he did, he spent ten minutes getting his heart rate under control; if he'd been caught with the ordnance he would have been shot on the spot.  Then he spent some time fiddling with the locks on the outside of their door.  He'd been using the little lock on the doorknob from the inside to keep Hallas out.  The deadbolt only had a knob on the outside. After he convinced himself there was no way to keep it open that wouldn't be obvious he used the restroom. He ran into Li on the way back.  
  
Li startled at the site of him and asked loudly, "What are you doing?"

"So sorry.  Ya I vas making a vater.  A piss, ya?"  He mimed the act and grinned at Li.

Li smiled but said, "You shouldn't be in the hall."

"So sorry.  You see ve vere taking little nap, and I had to make de vater. I did not want to piss myself, ya?" He laughed.

Li shook his head and chuckled.  "Get back in your room for safety, Bort. I can't keep track of Hallas today, I'm too busy."

Bård sobered.  "Ya, ya, okey dokey."

"Yeah, now go."

Bård quickly opened the door, stepped inside, and let out a very long, slow breath.

 

* * *

 

Vegard carefully stepped down the darkened hallway, keeping an eye out for security cameras.  But there were none.  He was convinced more than ever that this was an abandoned outpost and these anarchists had taken it over in something of a hurry.  The 1970s era base wouldn't have had a sophisticated security system, and he supposed the soldiers felt the outpost was remote enough not to warrant bringing in much special equipment.    He was worried about Bård getting caught. On the other hand, he trusted that Bård was good at thinking on his feet.  Vegard had to just concentrate on the task at hand.

Vegard crept down past the mess and recreation room, down to the lowest level.  There was an open area with many old-style metal desks and chairs.  It was odd that the men had left them all to gather dust. If it had been up to him, he would have moved the junk to the side to open up the space.  On the other hand, it was just another indication of how lazy the "soldiers" were, and that worked in his favor.

To his left there was another command console, although this one was far more outdated than the slick equipment upstairs. However, this new area was not dusty, so it might still be in use.   Beyond that were two dark hallways to check.  The first one led to another dust-covered ladder going up far enough that he couldn't see the hatch at the top.  Then he passed through a pair of thick open blast doors and into the second hallway that ended at a set of double doors. These opened to a large, dark circular room, and judging from the curve of the wall it was perhaps nine or ten meters in diameter.  He was standing on a balcony of sorts, with equipment near the door and a chasm over the edge. He switched on his flashlight and gasped with horror. 


	7. Into the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers make their move to stop the soldiers' fiendish plan.

When Vegard finally returned, Bård was sitting on the lower bunk looking covertly through their duffel bag.

"Well?"

Vegard closed the door and rested his back against it. "They've got an actual missile."

"I don't… Is it big?"

"Yeah. It's in a silo that goes down maybe ten stories. Thirty meters or so."

"No, that can't be possible. How would these idiots have a giant missile?"

"I doubt they're the ones in charge."

Bård rubbed his temples. "No. This can't be right. How could anyone hide a giant fucking missile?"

"Actually the missile isn't as big as the silo… the missile is only about seventeen or eighteen meters long."

Bård rolled his eyes. "Okay, how could anyone hide a still really large fucking missile?"

"Maybe NATO isn't as good at counter-terrorism as they say they are."

"Jesus. Do you think it's nuclear?"

"Maybe."

"How would crazy ecoterrorists get hold of an atom bomb?"

"Well, technically unless it was a really old weapon it wouldn't be likely to be an atom bomb per se. Nowadays most missiles are thermonuclear. The difference is that-"

Bård waved a hand to cut him off and frowned at him with disapproval. "Stay focused."

"Okay, okay." Vegard slid down to sit on the floor, his back still braced against the door. "You know, I think it must be a more modern missile and they've hidden it in this old giant silo. I remember reading that a lot of the old silos were sold to civilians; some people turned them into crazy homes."

"Crazy homes for crazy ecoterrorists."

Vegard shook his head. "They'd be the worst ecoterrorists in history if they caused nuclear winter. Maybe they're just regular terrorists, or sponsored by a larger organization. Al Qaeda?"

Bård shook his head. "Wouldn't they all be… religious fanatics? Long beards and praying?"

"I don't know."

Bård thought a moment and asked, "How far can that thing fly?" 

"Missiles nowadays can reach the other side of the planet. But I expect they'd aim it at the USA to start a war."

"Doesn't the USA have some sort of star wars to take down missiles?"

"Maybe they'll shoot it at Canada. I have no idea. I don't know what to do."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Bård finally said quietly, "I probably shouldn't have kept that flash drive."

"Nei, nei, nei. I'm sure they had another copy." Vegard smiled. "This isn't your fault."

Bård shook his head. "You know… the only reason we even have a chance to stop this is because you beguiled them into adopting you as their mascot. You've managed to stay in character for the whole week despite all of this weirdness. That Hallas guy wants nothing more than to torture and kill us. And at the very least the other men would have locked us up if it weren't for you."

Vegard shook his head, embarrassed by the compliment. "Thanks. But… no matter how good I act, I can't stop a missile."

"Do you think shutting down all the power will really stop it?"

"Maybe. It definitely doesn't belong here and their computer equipment isn't from the same era as the silo. There might not be a backup generator. Did you find a power source?"

"There was a main line that ran straight up into the ceiling. I think the electrical fittings might all be nearer the surface… and I suppose a safe distance from a missile."

Vegard nodded. "Maybe we can get at them from the surface."

Bård shrugged. "So, anyway I found some things. Will these work?" He stood up and pulled back the blankets to reveal what was lying on the bunk behind him.

Vegard sucked in a breath. "Where did you find all that? How did you get that here without being caught?!"

Bård grinned. _"Rocket launchers, bitches."_

 

* * *

 

At about 1900 Martin came by the room and knocked softly. "Bort? It's me. Can I come in?" 

Bård met him at the door with one hand behind his back resting on the hilt of the pistol he had pushed into the back of his trousers. He summoned up a smile and said, "Ya? Hallo."

"Sorry but I'm going to lock you in from the outside for the next hour or two. But be ready to leave. Is Veygore ready?"

"Ya, Ya I make him take a short sleep, you see."

Martin nodded. "Alright, see you soon. Oh, also…" He handed Bård a small green duffel bag. "Do you think you could pack Veygore's things in this? Evidently we are going to split up into two groups tonight. I'll take Veygore with me and Li will go with you. Then we'll rendezvous in town. We just don't have enough transportation to all go together."

A wave of dread washed over Bård but he took the bag, smiling. "Ya, sure, okey dokey."

"See you soon!" 

Bård closed the door and heard Martin turning the deadbolt lock. A short time afterwards he heard the lock opening again and Vegard slipped into the room. "Ready?"

"Yeah. They want to split us up. Did you see?"

"I had my rifle trained on him the whole time. But I couldn't hear. I guess we know Hallas got his way."

Bård worked his jaw and then growled, "Let's do this. I want to fuck up their plans so badly now I can taste it."

They'd decided that in order to maximize their chance of rescue they'd wait until the last moment to act. That would also minimize the chance that the terrorists would be able to repair any damage they caused in time to upload their satellite-killing program.

Bård slipped on his coat and slung his rifle and gear over his shoulder. Vegard had balled his coat into the smaller duffel bag along with extra magazines and ammo and Bård shouldered it as well. No longer worried about pretending to be helpless, Vegard did a last check of his rifle and pistol and they moved carefully into the hallway, sneaking past the control center and down into the lower floors of the base. They had a little scare when they discovered the lights were on over the old auxiliary controls, but there was no one manning the station. Vegard quietly led Bård to the narrow hallway going to the access shaft to the surface.

"Here we are." They both shined flashlights upwards. The dust on the rungs was undisturbed. "Make sure you get far enough away before you fire the rocket launcher, at least 20 meters."

"I still think you should come with me." Bård gently placed his rifle and Vegard's bag on the floor and tightened the straps holding the rocket launcher to his back. "We're safer together." 

"If they have a back-up system we'll need to have one of us down here. You might not be able to get back down here after you hit the generator."

Bård nodded. "Okay. Hope the hatch will open." He paused and said, "Vegard. Don't die."

"You neither. Go."

Bård quickly climbed up the ladder, opened the hatch, and clambered out. Vegard could see the stars above him and snowflakes drifted down onto his upturned face. He had a moment of desire to simply bolt up after his brother, but he knew it was his duty to protect the world from these maniacs. 

He pushed some of the disused desks into a makeshift barricade so he had access to the exit as well as the hall leading to the silo itself. He made enough noise that he thought someone would surely come. But no one did. Two minutes later there was a loud booming sound and the lights flickered out. Vegard held his breath and fifteen seconds later dim lights flickered into life. He cursed. There was a backup generator after all.

He jumped over his barricade and ran over to the auxiliary control area. It had hummed to life when the emergency lights came on. He scanned the bank of switches and dials. If there was a dedicated back-up system to the missile, the generator was probably down here, protected underground. There were several conduits from the consoles toward the missile. He rolled his two antipersonnel grenades toward the conduits and ran back to his position behind the barricade. He was hoping they would be sufficient to break through the protective packing over the power lines, but after the explosion cleared, the lights were still on and he'd only managed to tear up the desks and chairs near the conduits. A few moments later he heard Bård sliding back down the ladder.

"Well?"

Bård nodded. "It's done. I also definitely fucked up the satellite dish. Now let's get the hell out of here."

Vegard shook his head. "They could still fire the miss-"

He stopped, hearing the approach of footsteps down the stairs on the opposite side of the control room. 

"Fuck." He dug into a pocket, pulled out a smoke grenade and threw it towards the stairs leading to the upper floors. It rolled about ten feet short, but let off enough smoke to still obscure the soldiers' view. There were a few cries and shouts and then Vegard pulled Bård's head down as automatic rifle fire tore randomly into the room. The other men were firing blind. Then they went silent.

Bård poked him and whispered. "Give me one. I can see it clearing over there."

"It's the last one." Vegard handed him the grenade and Bård hurled it with greater accuracy; he could hear it rattling around near the metal stairwell. Smoke billowed up and Bård hissed, "Yes! Okay, time to leave."

Vegard peeked over the barricade and shot his pistol toward the smoke to keep the men at bay. "No, you go."

"Fucking hell, now what?"

"Go, and I'll handle this." Vegard adjusted his rifle, thinking if he sprayed the stairwell entrance with fire he'd probably hit at least a few of the men. He swallowed hard and flicked off the safety. "Just go."

"You think I'm such a coward that I'd leave you here?"

Vegard hissed at his brother, "Bård, get in there, climb up, get out, close the hatch and this time stay out."

"Why do you want me to leave?"

"I don't want you to die?" Vegard popped his head up again to look and ducked back as bullets bounced off the barricade. He turned to look at his brother. Despite his bravado, he could tell Bård was scared, maybe worse than he'd been in the plane. His eyes were so dilated they were almost black. Vegard softened his voice and said quickly, "Bård, you can make the climb fast enough; I wouldn't make it before they ran over here and shot up the shaft. My arm's hurt and I don't have the strength to make it."

Bård readied his rifle and snarled, "That's bullshit." He bounced up and angrily emptied a magazine into the smoke. When he ducked back down he could hear the soldiers yelling and cursing.

Hallas's voice rang out, "You shot me, you little shit!"

Bård shouted back, _"Fuck you, motherfucker!"_

Vegard grabbed Bård's arm and shook him. "As soon as you're away I'll fall back to the silo and try to wreck it; they won't be able to get through the blast door. I can handle this. Go, get help, come back and…"

Bård growled, "I'm not leaving."

Vegard frowned at him. "Do what I tell you."

Bård glared back at him. "I'm staying. But if we die here I'm going to beat the shit out of you."

"Jesus Christ…" Vegard handed Bård replacement ammo for his rifle. "Stay behind me. And try not to shoot me or yourself."

"Hell yeah. Let's go save the world."

Vegard rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a –"

Bård hissed, _"Yippee-kai-yay motherfucker!"_

Vegard couldn't suppress a smile. "I'll cover you. Don't die." He bounced up to lay down suppressing fire as Bård dove toward the neighboring hallway. Bård returned the favor and they tore down the hall and through the blast doors. Vegard didn't stop and Bård did a double take and then followed him. 

"I thought we could close the blast doors."

"Not from the inside." Vegard closed the two conventional doors between them and the terrorists and looked around frantically. 

"You're a fucking liar." Bård wiped some snow off of the railing that passed around the missile and looked up. "Those doors looked closed from the outside."

Vegard cursed, "They were closed. They just opened up." He and Bård leaned over the railing and looked down into the darkness. He was sure the missile was modern; there was scaffolding within the silo that had obviously been built to support the new, more compact missile. He pulled Bård away from the edge. "We've got to stop it from launching."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"If we shoot it will it explode?"

"I don't know. Maybe we could damage these controls. Shoot someth-"

Bård shot a panel and the bullet ricocheted immediately upward. Fortunately, neither of them was hit by the stray. Bård immediately said, "Yes, right, sorry, ricochet, got it."

While Bård emptied his Glock into the more pliant bits of the control panels above and below them, Vegard bashed in a "Break Glass In Case of Fire" shelf with the butt of his rifle and pulled out the axe from within. He slammed it against the control panels several times and then pushed the axe handle through the broad pulls on the two doors leading to the hall, moving away as bullets banged off of the other side with a deafening roar. "That will last for about fifteen seconds, I expect."

Bård threw away his empty pistol and spotted a ladder in the gloom. "There's a ladder, let's go and-" He turned toward Vegard and saw him falling to the ground, his face twisted with pain.

Behind him he heard, "Keep your hands up!"

Bård whirled to find Andersen on the opposite side of the silo with a pistol trained on him. Bård looked back and saw Vegard thrashing on the floor, clutching at his chest. "Vegard!"

Andersen walked towards him. "Gonna be hard to bullshit his way out of two bullets to the chest. I knew you boys were fakes."

Bård moved to stand between Andersen and his brother. "We aren't fakes. But we couldn't just let you do this."

"Shut up."

Bård swallowed heavily. "Look. The military is already on its way here. If you want to escape you should leave now."

"If the military was on the way you wouldn't have tried this stupid, hopeless attack. Now, since you've damaged the controls here, we're going to do this manually." 

"What do you mean?"

Andersen stood only a short distance from Bård now. "There's a key immediately behind me, can you see it hanging on the red panel?"

"Yes."

"There's one behind you as well. Now, you're going to turn around, and turn the key clockwise when I tell you, and I'll turn the key by me, and then we'll all leave the silo."

Bård glanced back at Vegard, still writhing in agony, obviously trying to speak and shaking his head at him. 

Andersen said, "Let's not worry about your little retarded brother for now. Or would you like me to put him out of his misery?"

Bård didn't hesitate when he saw Andersen switch his aim back to Vegard. Bård dove forward, pushing Andersen over the balcony rail, turning and pulling him down with him, rolling into the darkness.

 

* * *

 

Vegard spotted Andersen aiming the pistol at him a fraction of a second before getting slammed twice in the chest. The bullets knocked the wind out of him and he fell backwards, gasping and pulling at his shirt and vest, unable to warn Bård. And then suddenly Bård was rushing Andersen and time stretched out as they fell over the railing and out of sight.

Vegard choked out a cry and pushed himself to his side as the sound of the bullets against the doors got louder and louder. He crawled to the platform edge but couldn't see where Bård had fallen. And suddenly he realized the sound he was hearing wasn't bullets, but rather a helicopter hovering near the open missile silo doors overhead. He looked upward and a floodlight shone down upon him. An amplified voice rang out, "This is the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Do not move. Put your hands behind your head." 

Vegard squinted up into the light and raised his hands. Pain stabbed his chest and his heart. He gasped for air, crying from pain and grief, and then slipped into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has Bård splatted against the floor of the silo like so much Canadian maple syrup? Will Vegard regain his golden voice or will he retreat to a tiny cabin deep in the woods filled with dead animals? Were the Ylvisåker brothers' phones under warranty, or will they have to upgrade and pay the full retail price for replacements with their mobile phone service provider? Stay tuned for the answers to these and other questions in the exciting (?) conclusion of this adventure. Coming Soon: "Chapter 8: Ottawa."


	8. Ottawa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ylvis Saved the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfic posted to this site and I really appreciate everyone's kind words. 
> 
> This being the last chapter I thought I'd mention that I write a lot of fiction for myself and I edit it by making it into audiobooks using a high-end TTS program to listen to in the car etc. If you would like to download a copy of this story in .mp3 form I've made a webpage for you to get it at http://sites.google.com/site/lilliewescott There isn't anything else at that site right now.
> 
> Here's the image for this story. :-)

 

Vegard blinked heavily, his eyes adjusting to the light. He was in a bed under crisp white sheets and he had no idea where he was. His chest hurt and he pressed his hand against it.

"Vee-garrd? Oh honey, now there ya go." Someone was speaking with a heavy Canadian accent. He squinted up at the matronly woman in hospital scrubs hovering over him. "Vee-garrd? You're safe in the hospital. Don't try to move too fast, hey now, you've had some bad knocks to your chest."

He glanced down at himself. His left forearm was wrapped in bandages and under his hospital gown he could see two large round dark bruises spread over his upper chest. He took a deep breath and grimaced, choking.

The nurse nodded sympathetically. "Hey now, you just take it easy. You'll be just fine, but that's gonna hurt for a while. I'll get you another shot for the pain." The nurse patted his arm and walked briskly out the door of the sunlit room.

Vegard watched her leave and the memory of what had happened hit him hard. He shuddered and looked up at the ceiling, tears springing to his eyes.

From his left a voice asked, " _Jesus Christ_ , you aren't going to start crying again are you?"

Vegard turned toward the window. Bård was sitting in a bed next to his with a magazine in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"Bård!"

Bård smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"How am I feeling?"

"You were a fucking wreck last night. Your vest saved your life …but you were crying like a little girl. Do you want to tell me you love me again? You told me about a hundred times on the way back."

Vegard blinked heavily at his brother, unbelieving. "I saw you fall… I thought you were dead!" 

" _Nei, nei, nei,_ we only fell four or five meters to the next platform down. Andersen broke my fall. Knocked him out, though, and broke some of his ribs and a leg. _Bonus points!_ " Bård grinned.

Vegard sucked in a breath and immediately regretted it. His chest hurt. He asked, "Five meters? Are you hurt?"

" _Nei._ Well, I managed to get hit in the face again and I cut up my arm all to hell." Bård turned to show Vegard his left eye and cheek were swollen and bruised anew and that he had a line of black stitches down the front of his bruised left upper arm. "Do you think this will leave a sexy scar? I don't want you to outdo me in the sexy scar arena."

Vegard looked at Bård's arm; it was probably going to leave a sexy scar and he said so. He glanced at Bård's other arm and noticed he was wearing the black paracord bracelet. Vegard fought down the urge to try to leap out of bed to hug his brother; his chest hurt too much to make it the whole way. He asked hesitantly, "Was anyone killed?"

Bård raised a brow. "Do you really care? They were going to kill millions of people."

"Who died?"

"The _Men in Black_ said no one died. But I shot that motherfucker Hallas in the leg."

Vegard nodded, relieved he'd have no one else's death on his conscience. "Good job." 

"Thanks." Bård took a deep breath and added, "Okay, Vegard, go ahead."

"Go ahead? Go ahead with what?"

Bård frowned at him. "I've been waiting all this time for all that morphine they gave you to wear off so you will remember."

"Remember what, exactly?" 

"Tell me you love me again. Go ahead."

Vegard wondered vaguely if he was awake and said, "I love you?"

Bård put a hand to his heart and closed his eyes, drawing in an exaggerated and contented breath. He opened his eyes, bowed his head and swept his arm toward Vegard declaring, "And I love you as well, my brave, injury-prone, bullet magnet of a brother."

Vegard blinked at him for a moment, and then felt his face suddenly crumpling. He drew in a shuddering breath, overwhelmed with emotion. "Bård… I thought… I thought you were dead."

"Not dead. Just heroic. Valhalla will have to wait a little longer for me to arrive."

Vegard sniffed wetly and wiped his eyes. "I guess so." 

"You're so emotional, Vegard."

"I suppose it would be more reasonable for me to punch you for not being dead?"

Bård laughed. "Exactly! That is a far more healthy reaction." He smiled warmly at Vegard and added, "You probably will want to know I called home. Everyone's okay and all are very relieved, but the women were wrecks, especially Mamma. She was very alarmed by my bruised face. You should call home as soon as you can. They'll bring in a laptop for you and you can Skype home while the _Men in Black_ stare at you menacingly. I wasn't supposed to let on exactly what had happened and so I'm not sure the family believed me that you were okay… especially when I let it slip you got shot three times."

"Let it slip?!"

"I thought they'd be impressed. I pointed the camera at you but you were sleeping like the dead. You should have heard the weeping. I bet you'll have fantastic sex when you get home. Me too, actually, the wives were both overwrought. They were crying worse than you are now."

Vegard frowned disapprovingly at his brother and swallowed heavily. Despite Bård's teasing, he was relieved beyond measure that his family knew he was alive. He would have been frantic if the situation had been reversed. "Wait, what _Men in Black_?"

Bård grinned. "The Queen of England wants to give us some sort of honor. Or possibly shoot us. Or both. The men that mentioned it to me were a little vague. They were very scary. Real _Men in Black_ types. They're coming back tonight along with the Norwegian ambassador. Evidently we're big news now." Bård hooked a thumb toward the window. "There are a bunch of TV reporters camped outside the hospital. We can't talk to them or look at the internet or television until we get clearance from the Men in Black, but I waved at the reporters this morning from the window."

Vegard frowned and squinted at Bård. "Big news?"

"Where do you think all these flowers came from?" He gestured around the room and Vegard realized for the first time that the tables and counters around their room were jammed with flowers, balloons, cards and stuffed animals. 

Vegard looked around him in disbelief. "I didn't even notice them, Bård."

"I understand. It's hard to tear your eyes away from a handsome and brave man such as myself."

"No I mean…"

Bård laughed again. "All this is from family and friends and fans. The _Men in Black_ had to inspect everything. It's all very exciting." Bård sighed deeply, took a swig of his water and made a show of looking at his magazine. Vegard stared at him. Finally Bård relented and looked up. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm incredibly happy that you're alive. That we are both alive. And I don't really understand what has happened."

"We saved the world. _All in a day's work for Ylvis_."

"I still don't understand how…"

Bård shook his head at him patronizingly. _"Oi, oi, oi,_ Vegard. You really need a shave before you meet the ambassador. There is a pretty redhead who will do it for you." Bård motioned to his own freshly shaven face. "Have the nurse call her for you."

Vegard ran his hand over his own face and said with confusion, "Okay?"

 

* * *

 

Three days later they were in the Norwegian embassy in Ottawa sitting at a large polished table with the Norwegian Ambassador, an older woman who had come to visit them in the hospital and had been very reassuring. She'd given them new passports and phones to replace the ones lost with the plane (or in the case of Vegard's phone, confiscated by the RCMP) and had arranged for their flight home once their business with the Canadian authorities was completed. The day after Vegard had awakened three RCMP specialists visited them in the hospital and spent the entire day debriefing them. It had been exhausting and not a little intimidating. But at least they finally learned what had happened while they had been gone.

After they were discovered overdue to land in Gore Bay, the RCMP had looked at surveillance footage from the Toronto airport and had spotted the gunman shoving Bård into their plane. So from the first it was evident to the investigators that they'd been kidnapped. The Mounties had notified their families (but had kept their disappearance out of the news) so when the email arrived that Vegard had sent, their family had been able to contact the Norwegian and Canadian authorities very quickly. Although Vegard felt terrible his family had been so frightened for him, he was glad they at least hadn't been told that the brothers had died in a plane crash.

Today they were meeting with two grim-looking, weathered, older white men, diplomats from Canada and the United States. They were wearing identical black suits, closely cut salt-and-pepper haircuts and bifocals. Bård could only tell the difference between them by their nametags. They opened the meeting by thanking them for their service and saying the plane had been located and pulled from the ice by Canadian specialists. 

Vegard was beyond relieved to hear that the man who had abducted them was a wanted criminal in the USA and had a string of murder and felony charges behind him. He was definitely not a "good guy". The official story was to be that he had died as a result of wounds from the crash and Vegard was assured that he had absolutely acted in self-defense. No charges would be pressed.

The men at the old missile silo had all been charged with acts of terrorism and treason and were in RCMP custody. Vegard had made a case on behalf of Martin since he felt strongly Martin had saved them from execution at the hands of the other militants. Bård was less sympathetic, but the Men in Black and now these diplomats said they would take Vegard's words into consideration at Martin's trial. 

Additionally, according to the Canadian ambassador, the missile had not had a nuclear payload, but had been aimed at Ottawa. For that the government was nominating them for the "Order of Canada", a civilian honor bestowed officially upon them by Queen Elizabeth of England. And they were free to go home, provided of course, that the brothers would agree to a revised version of the facts. The United States representative slid a document across the table for Bård and Vegard to sign and added, "Our people have analyzed the virus these terrorists tried to upload to our satellite and tell me that the threat was not as great as you were led to believe. However, the virus would have caused enough problems that our people are very relieved you foiled the terrorists' plans. The vulnerability has now been repaired, so there will not be a similar incident in the future."

Vegard let out a slow breath. If the USA was admitting there was even a tiny risk, he assumed that meant there had actually been a huge risk. And he'd spotted a Geiger counter in the silo and had seen a lot of radioactive and biohazard warning labels. He felt pretty sure there had been some kind of scary payload, but he decided it was better not to say so. Ever. To anyone.

Bård leaned forward, looking at the document. "So, if I have this correctly, we say that this Mark person (he gestured toward a photo of the dead gunman) died in the plane crash and we don't say the program that was supposed to wrecks the satellites was very dangerous."

The Norwegian ambassador nodded. "That's correct."

"But everything else is okay to talk about? Even the missile?" 

All three diplomats nodded at them solemnly. The Canadian diplomat said, "The missile was not a significant threat to the world at large, but rather only to Canada herself. The current administration hopes to use this incident as a way to increase funding for fighting domestic terrorism."

The US diplomat added, "Because of international interest in your disappearance last week, we can assume you will be approached for a book or some such regarding the circumstances of your kidnapping. It happens quite a lot in these situations. I encourage you to consult a literary or entertainment attorney before accepting any offers. Of course, we will need to review any books or screenplays before release." 

The Norwegian ambassador nodded at them encouragingly.

Vegard swallowed hard and said, "That sounds very fair."

Bård added, "To be honest, we were expecting much worse. We thought you might just 'disappear' us for knowing any of this."

The US diplomat chuckled. "Don't believe everything you see in the movies about the United States, son. We're the good guys."

The Norwegian ambassador smiled and added, "You've done the world a great service. You deserve to tell your story."

 

Epilogue

 

That afternoon Bård and Vegard were sitting side-by-side in the First Class lounge in the Ottawa airport waiting for an Air Canada jet back to Oslo. The Norwegian ambassador had given them an entourage to protect them from reporters as they left the hospital and they'd had an escort to the lounge by airport security. 

As the brothers sat with their meager luggage they said little to each other, both absorbed by their phones. As soon as they'd gotten permission to speak to their families without being monitored they'd been texting back and forth nonstop. Vegard finally remarked, "I've been so overwhelmed by all of this I forgot about the GoPro."

Bård said, "I think it was broken or something."

"I saw it in your bag when we went through security."

"Oh, maybe." Bård made a production out of looking through his bag and then finally pulled the GoPro out. He handed it over and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 

"We can say we are headed home."

"I think the battery is dead."

Vegard turned the camera, switching it on. "No, it has battery charge… oh… hold on." He opened the camera and shook his head with disappointment. "The memory card is gone. Do you think they took it?"

Bård shrugged noncommittally, turning the memory card over and over inside his pocket. 

"Ah well." Vegard handed the camera back as boarding for their flight was announced. "I can't wait to get home." He stood and walked briskly toward the boarding gate.

Bård smiled, stood, shouldered his bag and followed his older brother. Like he always would. Not that he'd ever tell him. Actually, if he could get Vegard sufficiently drunk on the ride home, maybe then he'd tell him. That might actually be fun.

 

END


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